


Once Bitten, Twice Kissed

by saltwaterselkie



Category: Batman (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/F, First Kiss, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Poisonquinn - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, harlivy - Freeform, monster au, monster seeking monster honestly, oh man y'all i'm so excited, red diamond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwaterselkie/pseuds/saltwaterselkie
Summary: All Harley expects from her transfer to Gotham University is a new start. But soon she finds that the town -- and its residents -- are not as they seem. Something supernatural might be afoot...The Harlivy Halloween/monster AU my brain decided I was going to write.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle & Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 182
Kudos: 182





	1. Gotham by Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Looks like it's that time of year... spooooky. In honor of October, here: have a Harlivy monster AU. Chapters will be shorter than my usual ones but posted more frequently. And, as usual, I'll probably end up with more writing than I bargained for -- but that's a deal I'm willing to make.
> 
> Enjoy!

Harley arrived at Gotham University just before dark.

She would’ve been there earlier, but her first plane – New York to Denver – had been delayed, which meant Harley missed her second leg and had to hop on a later flight so she could get to Oregon at all. And _then_ it was a two-hour drive from Portland to Gotham, which was more middle-of-nowhere than Harley would’ve preferred. She was a Brooklyn girl through and through. Gotham was the biggest city in its area for miles, with nearly 110,000 people, yet all Harley could think when she crested the hill on the drive over was that it was _small_.

Her eyelids drooped as she drove down the winding hill into the valley that cradled the city. She was exhausted – not a good combination, what with the setting sun reflecting off her windshield and the road twisting into switchbacks and curves.

The strangest feeling descended upon Harley as she descended towards Gotham. She couldn’t identify it at first – it was too foreign, too primal. Not something she’d ever felt in New York. A sort of… a sort of silence of the soul, she decided. Like the atmosphere was heavier down here, the air a little thicker with tension. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Scratch that. She was _positive_ she didn’t like it. She could see the city lights sparkling in the twilight – sparkling and twinkling pretty as you please – but the sensation of just _slight_ wrongness permeated her bones. It was the barest jangling of her nerves. It felt like the city was welcoming her with a false smile and a handshake joined by nails digging into her palm.

She wished she’d visited Gotham before transferring here. She wished she’d been able to find any other place ( _any_ place) who’d take someone with her… history. She wished… she wished…

Well, it wouldn’t do any good to wish she’d never done… _it_ … in the first place. Besides, she was probably just tired, exhausted from the long day of travel. She’d been in transit since 3 AM Eastern Time. No wonder she felt a little unsettled.

She’d set her GPS to Gotham U when she left the airport, and against her better judgement, she followed its directions to the school rather than redirecting to her new off-campus apartment. She desperately wanted to see the school itself. Almost to prove to herself that it was real, that it was here, that she was going to be a student there. That she hadn’t ruined everything for herself in the mess she’d caused.

There was a late September chill in the air, a breeze skipping over Harley’s exposed skin as she slipped out of her car and slammed the door shut. Her parking job was poor, but it wasn’t like she’d be in the admissions lot for more than a few minutes. She just needed to look.

The commons were a verdant green that seemed almost fake – it was hard for Harley to imagine the number of sprinklers necessary to ensure no patches of brown wormed their way into it. The campus’s few deciduous trees, sprinkled sparsely in between evergreens, were just beginning to color. Every building she saw as she peered into the spaces bordering the parking lot was gothic, looming, or both.

She imagined it would be less intimidating if it wasn’t night, if the shadows in the archways and under the trees hadn’t already stretched, long and black, into darkness. She glanced to the west; as if on cue, the sun dipped below the horizon. And back to the shadows, where anyone could be standing and looking at her and know she wouldn’t see that they did.

And suddenly Harley felt too alone in the parking lot, with her flimsy travel clothes and her purse looped over her shoulder and her taser still in the bottom of her suitcase. She hurried back to her car, fumbling with her keys as she went, and pulled open the driver’s side door with such force that she made herself flinch. She ducked inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it, breathing hard.

Stupid. That was stupid, wasn’t it? There were security cameras out here, campus police; the lights would probably flick on in a moment, and Harley would wonder why she’d been so nervous. She swallowed, her throat dry, and tried to take a few deep breaths, reaching for the water bottle on the passenger seat. A few sips and she was fine.

She set a course on Google Maps for her new home.

<><><>

The apartment was small, which Harley had expected. It was empty, which she had not. The description that had popped up when she’d rented the place, desperate for something, anything, close to campus and in her price range, had claimed that the apartment came “furnished with all essentials.”

Apparently, the landlord did not consider many things to be essential. The only furnishings Harley could see were a mini-fridge and a microwave. No beds, tables, chairs; she wondered if they’d meant to advertise the place as furnished by a monk’s standards.

She ended up making a little bird’s nest for herself from the clothes she’d brought. She set up on the bedroom floor, using her backpack as a pillow and her sleeping bag for warmth. She lay for a long time on the floor, looking up at the blackness of the ceiling.

She got up twice to make sure the doors and windows were locked.


	2. Fresh Faces in New Places

“Hi! Are you Harley?”

Harley tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, conscious of the fact that she didn’t look like she’d slept the night. That was likely because she hadn’t. It’d been far too quiet – her usual lullaby of sirens and shouts had been absent for the first time in her life. There were still city noises, sure, but it wasn’t New York. It wasn’t _home_.

Thus, she was positive that she had bags under her eyes. She tried to slip into a convincingly large smile as she waved at the girl walking towards her. Night-black hair cropped short to her chin, deep brown skin, dimples; it fit Selina Kyle’s description to a T.

“Selina?”

“I _knew_ it.” Selina threw an arm over Harley’s shoulder, twisting so they were side by side. Before Harley knew it, they were walking. Gotham U’s campus was far nicer ( _safer_ , Harley’s brain whispered) in the day. “How are you, Harley?”

Selina had been the student admissions officer who interviewed Harley; when Harley had reached out to her after being accepted, Selina had pounced on her. Like she thought Harley needed a friend, needed someone on her side.

Which, to be fair, Harley _did_ need, not that she was going to admit it.

Harley remembered her first year at Columbia. She’d been a bright, bubbly freshman, fresh out of a gap year she spent working herself to the bone to be able to afford the tuition. Her smile had reached cheek to cheek; she’d gotten a noise complaint twice in the first two weeks in her new dorm because of how loud she talked.

She didn’t feel like that now. As Selina led her through the campus, other students glancing at them as they walked past, it was all Harley could do to keep herself from zoning out. Every curious look from other kids would send her into a spiral. Wondering if they’d… if they’d seen it. If they knew.

It was irrational. Harley knew that, she really did. But that was the thing about the internet, right? No one ever disappeared, even when they were trying their best to.

“That’s the dining hall,” Selina said, interrupting Harley’s reverie with a gesture. “There are a few on campus, but that’s the main one. Food’s gross but gets you caloried up. Of course, you won’t _officially_ be on meal plan for a couple months, but let me know if you ever want to grab a bite and I’ll swipe you, no problem.”

Gotham U worked on a quarter system, and Harley’s first classes would start during the winter. She’d decided to take the Fall quarter off to settle in to her new apartment, her new city. Her new life. Which made her appreciate even more that Selina was taking the time to introduce her to campus, even when it’d be a bit before Harley even got going.

Selina was talking like she had somewhere to be and needed to finish with Harley as quickly as possible. No wasted breaths. “And I’m adding you to some groupchats already so you can start with the socializing. We’re having a bonfire on Friday down at the reservoir. You should come.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Selina gave Harley an encouraging smile. “I gotta head to class in a sec, okay? But stay on campus if you want. Wander around or whatever, the people here are really nice. And like I said, let me know if you need anything. ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Harley said.

Selina seemed to consider for a moment. Then she tilted her head, and for a moment the sunlight caught on her deep brown eyes. Harley blinked, and the effect was gone. But… she was sure, _sure,_ that Selina’s eyes had flashed gold. Just for a moment.

Jesus, Harley needed to sleep.

“Harley,” Selina said, and this was softer and slower. “I love Gotham, I really do. And I want you to love it, too. I know it’s new and scary right now, but you’ll grow into it. I truly believe that.”

Harley was about to say something; Selina wasn’t finished.

“ _But_ ,” Selina said, holding up a finger, “there are three things you need to know.”

Harley’s curiosity stood at attention, pricked. She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“One,” Selina said, her eyes locked on Harley’s, “you don’t go out at night. Alone, never. With someone else? Better, but still try to avoid it. Gotham gets… weird at night.”

“I know,” Harley said, the words rushing out of her before she could stop them. “I was here – on campus, I mean – last night, and I didn’t see _anyone_ , I…”

Selina’s expression darkened. “You’re lucky, then,” she cut in. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

Harley felt suddenly like a child, chastised for doing something she hadn’t known was wrong. “There was no one there,” she defended herself.

“Not that you could see.”

Harley was quiet for a beat. “What’s number two?”

“Stay out of Whitman Wildlife Preserve. I know, I _know_ that’s a big part of Gotham U’s advertising, but that preserve is _not_ for college students to go traipsing around in, okay?” Selina smiled; her grin had a glint to it. “Some of the local kids say it’s got a resident witch, but sinkholes in the wetlands are just as dangerous. I know you’re… what, twenty-two?” (Harley nodded yes.) “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be a fucking dumbass sometimes.”

Harley hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Number three?”

“Easy,” Selina said, and that smile was back, warm as ever. “If you’re hosting a drinking game, I better be there, too. I gotta split, Quinzel. Enjoy Gotham.”

And with that, Selina was gone, and Harley was alone again.

Harley thought about rule number one. She shivered. She’d need to do something tonight to take her mind off the feel of this town, like it was amber and she was a fly getting caught in it. She could… she could go out. She thought she could – especially someplace dark, where no one would recognize her face. Yes, she decided, her resolve strengthening, that was what she would do. Tonight she would go out and drown the wiggles in her stomach with alcohol and loud music.

She nodded, resolute, and yawned.

First: a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... not sure how much I like the short chapter, frequent update thing... how would people feel about switching back to longer (2k-3k) chapters around twice a week instead? I can keep trying the short thing, too, if it works. Let me know in the comments.


	3. Join the Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy (or not) the introduction of everyone's least favorite dude...

Harley tugged at her shirt, her fingers fiddling with the hem. She’d just bought a new mirror for the apartment (along with a mattress, table, and chair) and it was leaned up against the wall, giving her a weird angle as she examined herself in it.

She looked fine for clubbing, didn’t she? She’d gotten dressed up as she would’ve before everything happened: red-and-black crop top, low-rise jeans, a few silver chains looped around her neck. She’d considered dying the tips of her ponytails – one blue and one red, like she used to – but then she’d remembered that she’d had dyed hair in… in the photos. So that was a no go.

If she didn’t go now, she was never going to be ready. With a sigh, Harley grabbed her phone and her keys and locked the door behind her.

She was already violating Selina’s advice; it was dark when Harley stepped into the apartment parking lot. With a huff of unease, she jogged to her car. She didn’t feel fully relaxed until she was on the road, headed for… apparently, the nearest club was called _The Velvet_. What a pretentious name; Harley almost wanted to avoid it out of principle. The velvet what? Just velvet itself? Velvet was an overrated fabric. She’d talked about that with _him_ , once.

Harley shook her head like it would clear out the cobwebs of her memories and drove to The Velvet.

<><><>

Pounding music. Flashing lights. Bodies grinding up against one another. Harley was absorbed into the club the instant she crossed the threshold. (The bouncers didn’t even card her.) And as the beat pounded in her bones, she felt herself – _finally_ – relax. It was dark in here. No one was going to recognize her. She was just one more unidentified human in a sea of them.

She even caught herself swaying to the beat. She raised her arms in the air, tentative, and closed her eyes. This was something she used to love, she remembered; the barrage of stimuli, the way it all overwhelmed her senses so the only thing she could focus on was _now_ , _here_ , _this_.

The bass thumped. Harley let herself move. Harley let herself go.

<><><>

She’d been dancing for a long time – though she couldn’t have said exactly _how_ long – when a hand slipped around her waist. She flinched, on edge again, and turned, her eyes flashing, at whoever had the _nerve_ to just grab—

He was gorgeous. She paused, her mouth half open, just looking at him. He was too pale, his eyes bloodshot, his hair an unnatural shade of green, but somehow none of these things detracted from the fact that he was one goddamn _tall_ drink of water.

Harley swallowed. She let him guide her towards the bar.

When they were far enough away from the music that he could actually make himself heard, he gave her a simple, tight-lipped smile that somehow communicated to her that he wanted to do more with that mouth than just smile at her. “Looking lonely,” he said, his voice honey smooth. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Harley nodded, numb.

He snapped; the bartender was there in a moment. “Pick your poison.”

Harley swallowed again. “Amaretto Sour.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Sweet. Like you.”

Harley didn’t often blush. She was damn sure blushing now. And she hadn’t even had the drink yet.

“Oh, I’m sorry – where are my manners?” He extended a hand to her; not quite believing it, she let him take hers. He pressed a cold kiss to her knuckles, not breaking eye contact. “I’m Jack Napier.”

“Harleen Quinzel.” She spat it out like he was quizzing her. Her full name. Just like that. She hadn’t even balked. She should have said she was Harleen Quill, Harleen Quint, anything but _Quinzel_. God, the things he could find on the internet with her full name…

But then he was distracting her again, and she let him. “New in town, Harleen Quinzel?”

“Yes.”

He winked. “I knew I’d have noticed if you’d come around here before. Saw you on that dance floor and thought… well, that there’s a _snack_.”

She didn’t normally like that kind of talk, didn’t like when guys singled her out for her appearance alone. Harley had wanted to be a _doctor_ at one point, for God’s sake; why not admire her for her brain? Except… in his mouth, the words sounded less derogatory. He made them sound like a real compliment, a true one. She didn’t think the phrase “pick-up line” could coexist with Jack Napier.

He had a quick laugh. A full wallet. (Not that Harley was shallow, but she noticed he didn’t blink an eye at buying her more and more drinks.) The tipsier she got, the funnier _he_ got, and by the time she realized that _maybe_ she shouldn’t be drinking as much as she was, everything was too fuzzy and calm and nice for her to stop.

It was better like this. She wasn’t thinking about… about… there was someone, something, that had been worrying her, but it was gone now. The only thing in the here and now was Jack. Jack Jack Jack Jack was all her brain could think. The only station her mind could tune into.

He kissed her in the alley behind the club, his hands hungry on her body and rough in her hair. But his mouth was that of a perfect gentleman: not a hint of tongue. Just kisses that spelled out desire, pressed to mouth, the corner of her lips, the line of her chin. She tilted her head up for him, but he didn’t drop his mouth to her neck.

Instead, he drew back, skimming his hands on her hips as he did it. “You’re very drunk,” he said, tapping her on the nose.

She giggled and tried to lean back into him. He pushed her back, holding her at arm’s length. “Harleen,” he said, his voice half-serious, “anyone could do _anything_ to you right now, and you couldn’t stop them.”

She wasn’t sure if she was burning up or if he was just one of those guys with cold hands, but his fingers on her shoulders were chilly. She felt like she should be scared, like his dark eyes should send a spike of fear into her heart, but all she felt was adrenaline and alcohol. So she giggled again. “I don’t,” she hiccupped, which meant she was _really_ drunk, and tried to get herself under control. “I don’t think so.” Was she slurring her words? She needed him to understand. “ _You’re_ with me. Not like _him_.” She clutched at his shirt. “ _You’re_ with me. Safe.”

She only caught a glimpse of it – one glimpse, when his fingers tightened and he leaned in, his breath brushing against her throat. She couldn’t quite identify that look, but she’d thought… it was _want_. _Need_. Warring with something more complicated. If she’d been in her right mind, she would’ve been able to see the gears turning in his mind, the moment of calculation.

But she was not, so she tilted her head again, waiting for him to press another cold kiss to the hollow of her collarbone.

He didn’t. He lifted her instead, his arms cold and gentle, and carried her to her car and drove her home and paused at the doorway to ask, oh so politely, if he could come in.

“Duh,” she said, “be my guest.”

He didn’t move. That was when she remembered that she hadn’t given him her keys. She fished them out of her bra; he took them without a hint of discomfort and let himself in.

To her surprise, he didn’t sleep with her. He just laid her on her new mattress like a princess in a storybook and left, slipping out so quietly that she didn’t hear him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will probably be in two days!


	4. Exploration

Harley woke to a massive hangover and a vague recollection of the night before. She remembered dancing, of course, and that man – _Jack_ , of course she remembered Jack, and drinks, and that cold alleyway, and… she kinda remembered what they’d talked about? After that, it was a blur.

But no handsome stranger was in bed next to her, so she assumed they hadn’t slept together. She remembered, after all, that he was a gentleman. Old-fashioned. Harley wouldn’t have thought she would’ve liked those little gestures of his, but goddamn if it hadn’t gotten her stomach fluttering when he kissed her hand.

 _Oh_ _God_ , she thought, flinging an arm over her throbbing head. _I didn’t get his number_.

<><><>

Harley waited until late morning to rally. (It wasn’t like she had anywhere to be.) She spent her time in bed scrolling through her social media feeds, wallowing in pity. Everything from scolding to death threats popped up in her DMs. The wave of online vitriol had ebbed over the months, but she could still be sure of a few new messages a day.

She thought of Jack. A sick feeling dropped into her stomach at the thought that he could find her accounts. Find everything people had tagged her in. See all those public comments blaring judgement out on her world.

In the beginning, when she hadn’t yet been broken by it all, she’d stubbornly refused to delete her social media on principle. Pride, maybe? She’d cultivated her online persona with care over the years; she had thousands of followers, then. Now, they numbered in the hundreds. Turned out online “friends” were quick to jump ship when scandal arrived.

She considered for a moment, lying in her new apartment with fresh-kissed lips. She wondered what she was scared of.

She hesitated with her finger over the delete button, but not for long. Instagram, gone. Snapchat, gone. Facebook, gone. (Not that she ever _used_ Facebook anymore, but it was the principle of the thing.)

Oh _fuck_ , she thought again, why the _hell_ hadn’t she gotten his number?

She brushed the thought away. That was all right; he was probably a one-night kinda guy. She could deal with that, hold onto the good parts. Besides, it had sounded like he went to that club often. She could probably find him again, if she really tried. The thought that she might _have_ to try, that he wouldn’t be able to just search her up and send a DM her way, actually tickled her; he’d need to put in more effort than that.

Harley propped her hands behind her head. She took a deep breath. She thought of Jay’s tousled green hair, his smile, his kisses; she did not think of the hunger in his dark eyes. She thought of Gotham’s luscious trees and better-than-expected clubbing scene; she did not think of the hairs standing up on her neck that had started to feel normal that way. She thought of the sun; she didn’t think of the shadows.

And so Harley smiled and got up to make breakfast, because of all the things she was thinking of and all the things she wasn’t.

<><><>

Out of curiosity – and because Harley had already broken Selina’s first rule and figured she might as well see what the second was about – she went to the Whitman Wildlife Preserve in the afternoon. She took public transit instead of her car, this time, deciding she might as well see if the Gotham buses were anything like the New York subway.

Answer: they were not. For one, the buses were quiet, for the most part; no rumbling and whining as they shot at high speeds below the city. They were also _slow_. It took her almost an hour just to get to the preserve, and even then, she had to walk some of the route. On her way, she passed the original Gotham Jail (a sign sitting next to it notified her that it was no longer used), a few local businesses, and a sleek black cat delicately licking one of its paws.

Harley grinned at it. She liked cats. The cat glanced up, sniffing the air, and hissed, arching its back.

“Whoa, sorry, buddy,” Harley held out her hands. “I’ll be on my way.”

The cat tilted its head, got to its feet, and padded away.

“Okay, then.” Harley wondered if it was weird to be talking to a cat; then again, nothing in this town felt weird anymore. Maybe that was the draw of Gotham. Maybe she was finally getting it. The city’s motto: Be Weird, Leave Other People the Fuck Alone.

Ironic, actually, as Harley was about to go bother a bog witch.

<><><>

The wetlands were… _bigger_ than Harley would’ve envisioned. A quick search on her phone, which only had one bar of service out here but still worked when she waited long enough, told her that the preserve was an ecological mystery. There was, apparently, no agreed-upon scientific explanation for the origin of the bog. It was one of the only natural wetlands in the area.

The sign at the edge of the wetlands notified Harley that early settlers had been known to get lost in the midst of them, following will-o’-the-wisps. Now _that_ , the sign proclaimed, could be explained by science; wisps were just phosphorescent gases released from decaying plants. Nothing supernatural about them.

The sign said nothing about a bog witch. Harley was a little disappointed.

She sniffed, tucked her hands in her pockets, and was about to turn to go when she saw something.

She peered at the wetlands closer. Nothing. Nothing at all. God, she really _was_ seeing things recently, wasn’t she? That weird flash of Selina’s eyes, that dark look in Jack’s, and now, out of all things, an unnatural swatch of _red_ out of the corner of her eye. Red in the middle of a wetland that seemed to be made only of greens and browns. Natural colors. Red did not fit in the palette of the bog.

Harley spun on her heel and walked away. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.


	5. Bonfire

Selina hadn’t been kidding. Harley felt like half the school was milling about a frankly ginormous bonfire. The valley had already dipped into blackness, but the bonfire party was in no way calm. Students were laughing, egging each other to make out, some of them _actually_ making out… the works. The fire itself flared high, fed by cardboard and, according to a senior Harley had asked when she saw him dumping a pile of printer paper into the flames, not a small number of old assignments. Harley had to admit she was impressed.

The party was happening (very illegally, she might add) down by the city reservoir. Beer flowed like the celebration was being bankrolled by the Wayne Foundation. The water lapped calmly against the shore. Harley caught a glimpse of a couple of bare backsides heading into the reservoir, illuminated by the flickering firelight, and averted her eyes.

She nursed a stereotypical red Solo cup of beer, keeping herself to a strict limit of one; she’d learned her lesson from that clubbing-induced hangover. She’d spent most of the rest of the week unpacking, buying a few necessities for her new apartment, and getting to know the town. (Though not after dark.)

Gotham was, she’d had to admit, cuter than she’d anticipated. There were a few boutiques and stores downtown, plus a bookstore called Knights and Pages she’d spent an hour or two browsing on Thursday afternoon. There were a lot of brick buildings and black lampposts, plus a wide variety of metalwork decorating them. She’d taken a picture of a really pretty fence and immediately looked to make sure no one was watching, sheepish; she didn’t want to be that snobby New York girl who thought everyday West Coast items were “just so authentic.”

Tonight, she was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. She hadn’t been in the mood to dress up. When she’d caught a glance of Selina earlier, Harley had almost regretted her choice; Selina had popped into a slinky black number that looked like it’d fit better at a black tie event than what amounted to a tailgate party with a different name. Still, Selina had been rocking it; at the very least, Harley considered, it wasn’t like she herself _wanted_ to be noticed.

She drew closer to the fire as the temperature cooled. She didn’t talk with many people, just floated on the edges of the groups. At one point, she found herself in the midst of a gaggle of girls gossiping about their partners. Then it was a few of the football team boys making cursory passes at her. After that, she perched on one of the stumps next to the bonfire, which had waned to the size of a normal campfire, and settled her attention on a boy across the way.

He was buzzed, she could tell – just like her. Black hair, blue eyes. With a jolt of recognition, she realized it was Bruce Wayne. The Wayne heir himself.

Harley watched Selina saunter over to Bruce and loop an arm around his waist as she took a seat. She whispered something in his ear and pressed a kiss to the stubble on his cheek.

 _Well_ , Harley thought, looking away in discomfort, _that’s a development._

“Hey there, pretty girl.” Harley glanced up; in front of her stood a short, voluptuous redhead dressed all in brown. She had a pair of sunglasses tucked into her hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail. “The name’s Roxy. How you doin’?”

“Uh,” Harley said, her mouth suddenly dry. She had a thing for redheads.

Roxy winked at her, and for a moment all Harley could think about was herself, freshman year of college, smiling up at _him_ when he winked at her. She drew back into herself, trying not to make it obvious.

Roxy took a seat on an adjacent long and leaned back. “You’re new, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Not starting this quarter?”

Harley made an effort. “No, in the winter. Selina already showed me around campus, though.”

Roxy whistled, one eyebrow arching. “Selina Kyle? Girl, you’ve got _connections_ , damn.” A beat. Harley didn’t know how _not_ to let it be awkward. “So…” Roxy gave Harley the side-eye. “Did she hit you with her three rules?”

“Yup.” Harley almost expected Roxy to make fun of the rules, to swear that nothing lived in the bog, that going out at night was perfectly fine.

Instead, Roxy just nodded sagely. “She’s pretty religious about ‘em. Selina grew up in Gotham, you know. One of her best friends disappeared a few years back. Soon as Selina got to college, she started her little… campaign thing.”

“Were they common?”

“What?”

For some reason, Harley’s mind went to Jack. “Disappearances.”

“Oh, yeah,” Roxy said, far more casually than Harley would’ve expected. “We lose at least a couple students a year. Administration hushes it up – not that people come to GU thinking it’s the safest school in the world. Most people assume the kids just run away, but Selina’s convinced it’s something about Gotham. Like… I don’t know, like a curse.” Roxy laughed, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “Silly when you think about it. My theory’s that half the girls get pregnant and embarrassed about it. And the other half,” she shrugged, “just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess. I’ve been out at night and never had a problem, but then again, I carry pepper spray.”

“Very pragmatic of you.”

“Oh, for sure.”

They sat there for a moment, both watching the fire. Harley crossed her arms, trying to hold warmth closer to her core. She hadn’t worn enough layers. How in the world was Selina still sitting in that tiny dress across the fire, trailing a finger down Bruce’s arm, without freezing her tail off? Selina caught Harley’s eye for a moment and winked, her smile decidedly feline; Harley looked away.

Nothing in this city felt quite right. The closest to normal she’d gotten was Roxy.

Speaking of Roxy… the redhead was shifting surreptitiously closer to Harley. Roxy nudged her with a shoulder. “Want to hear a ghost story?”

Harley felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Sure.”

“You heard of the bog witch? Selina’s second rule?”

Harley bobbed her head yes. Heard of her – maybe even seen, or been seen, by her. “Are you gonna tell me she’s some eldritch being? Been here since the dawn of time or whatever?”

“No,” Roxy said casually, “she’s only been around for a few years. Bog’s been haunted for longer than that, but we didn’t get sightings of her until recently.”

 _That_ was a surprise. It made the beginning of this “ghost story” feel pleasantly realistic. Harley leaned up against Roxy. “Tell it, please?”

She loved a good story. Always had, always would.

“Some people say the witch is a scorned lover who killed herself when she was rejected, or an ancient crone with, like, the warts and everything. But _I_ think she’s a zombie. Like, some girl who was murdered in the bog and came back to life because of the magic. Everyone saw the will-o’-the-wisps and stuff when we were younger. If there’s any reason for something to be living in there, now, it’s gotta be because of the magic.”

“Is that it?”

Roxy laughed. “Yup. You disappointed?”

Harley considered. Their faces were very close, now, noses nearly touching. “No,” Harley said, her voice a whisper, and Roxy pressed a soft kiss to her lips that felt like nothing at all.

And nothing at all was safe. Safer than it’d been with _him_ , safer than with Jack, so Harley kissed Roxy back, because _nothing_ meant she didn’t have to worry about it ever becoming _something_. And maybe that wasn’t fair to Roxy, but Harley couldn’t think too far ahead right now, and besides, she hadn’t kissed a girl in ages and she’d almost forgotten how nice it could be.

Beyond the edge of the firelight, something was watching Harley. Her senses were tingling, her lashes fluttering against Roxy’s cheeks; still, she wouldn’t have noticed the watcher even if her eyes were wide open.


	6. Promise

Roxy left the bonfire first, with a number slipped into Harley’s phone and an agreed-upon date. Harley kinda liked the idea; she wanted to see what Roxy would be like by day. In the night, she was woodsmoke and wiry hair, lumberjack arms and kisses with tongue. She’d told Harley, in between the steamier moments, that she had a pilot’s license – promised that even if nothing ever came of what was happening between them, she’d take Harley up in a rented plane. Harley had nodded along.

Maybe Harley was starting this in bad faith; maybe it wasn’t fair to Roxy to lead her on, even when Harley was feeling… well… the _absence_ of a spark. But Harley had thought about it. Specifically, she’d thought about Jack. And she’d remembered that _sparks_ were what had gotten her into trouble at Columbia. All it took was a reminder of her past follies to make her think that she could – _should_ – give this a try instead of falling into old habits.

People trickled away from the fire. Bruce and Selina drifted to the edge of the forest; some of the other students did the same. Some, like Harley, didn’t move from their spots around the fire; most of them were either drunk or high. Harley was neither; she was just lonely.

She stayed until the fire was embers.

And then someone slipped cold hands around her waist from behind.

She was afraid, for an instant; primally afraid, like her body knew she was about to die. But then her brain recognized the touch, and she turned her head up towards Jack instinctually, and he was kissing her.

There was _nothing_ “nothing” about this. He dragged her away from the fire and into the darkness, his hands on her body, his mouth on hers. His _kisses_ , oh, his kisses didn’t make any _sense_ , because he _still_ hadn’t opened his mouth and he _still_ drove Harley crazy.

When they were at the edge of the water, he drew back. His smile was a glint in the light of the moon – they were far enough away from the fire that the light didn’t reach them. Harley found herself breathless. “ _Fuck,”_ she panted (surprising herself, because that was something Old Harley would’ve said, not New Harley). She looped her arms around his waist, thumbing the waistband of his jeans. She felt giddy, exhilarated, and altogether like the past year hadn’t happened.

How could he do that to her? How?

“So,” he said, running a finger along her jawline, “I see you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Hell no,” Harley said, leaning into his touch. “Just… just didn’t end up in the club again. Is that a crime?”

He laughed, low and rough. “’Course not. The only crime was not getting a round two. You seem a little more… _capable_ tonight, Harleen.” She read between the lines: he said _capable_ and meant _sober_.

“Harley,” she said, “you can call me Harley.”

He pressed a kiss to her chin. “Harley. I like that. So, Harley… want to take me back to your place?”

On the way out, they almost ran into Selina – Harley heard her say something along the lines of “ _fuck, who’s stinking up my party?”_ – but they got to Harley’s car without too much of an incident. Jack took the wheel. He drove all the way with one hand, his other holding tight to Harley’s.

<><><>

Harley was very good at making bad decisions. It was like a habit; she was a moth drawn to a flame. In this case, Jack was the flame, and she knew it, and she made a conscious decision (she was still her own woman, after all) to ignore her common sense.

She slept with him. He was _very_ good in bed. She spent the next day thinking about him (he’d left before she woke up), and that night he was at her door again with flowers. They watched an old movie together ( _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off)_ and then slept together again.

Harley’s sense of time blurred. She was supposed to be trying to get a job. Instead, she spent her days headed down YouTube rabbit holes and reading the local newspaper. Her nights were always spent in Jack’s arms. Always.

He told the worst jokes, all the old ones she’d heard before and the terrible puns he came up with on the spot. He was the _worst_ cook she’d ever met; it was like the man had never learned what garlic was for. He commented once that he was glad she was Jewish and not Christian without explaining further, which… well, she was less sure about that one. But the more time she spent with him, the better he made her feel. The more time she spent with him, the more Old Harley popped up, pushing New Harley aside.

She only asked him once why they couldn’t meet up in the day. He’d explained that the hours for his job varied drastically enough that he couldn’t be sure how much he’d be working while the sun was up.

And after a few nights, Harley decided she didn’t care. She wasn’t even sure anymore if this _was_ a bad decision; Jack was caring. He doted on her. He brought her little gifts, like tiny chocolates and wine that seemed too expensive for a normal college student. She did wonder how old he was, but she never asked.

<><><>

Harley had been making this _particular_ decision, be it good or bad, for about two weeks by the next time she saw Selina. The month had just shifted into October, and Harley felt like she was always hellishly cold. She layered up and met Selina for coffee.

The first thing Selina did was wrinkle her nose, which made Harley incredibly self-conscious for a moment about whether she’d showered. In a moment, the look was gone. Selina eyed Harley cautiously. “You okay, Harley?”

Harley nodded. “Yeah, actually. Doing better than I thought.” She didn’t know why, but being with Jack felt like… felt like it was bringing her back to herself. If only a little. She cracked a smile for Selina and was surprised to find that it was genuine. “Yourself?”

“Great,” Selina said. “I haven’t seen you since the bonfire. Hey… you’ve been following rule number one, right?”

For the most part, yes. But also… with Jack by her side, Harley hadn’t been afraid to walk with him at night, to talk with him as they strolled down new streets. He was a local; he knew his way around the city. Besides, he was tall and, if you didn’t know him like Harley did, looked pretty damn scary. “Absolutely,” Harley lied. “Scout’s honor, Selina.”

“You keep an eye out for strange men,” Selina joked, though there was a hint of seriousness behind it.

Jack… Jack wasn’t strange. Not to Harley. Not with this whirlwind… romance? If she could call it that? Not with whatever they had going on.

Jack was hers, one of the only things she’d found in this new life that hadn’t been tainted by her old one. And she was going to keep him.

 _Besides_ , he thought, _he’s not a stranger, and he’s dangerous_. _Not dangerous at all._

Though she didn’t know it yet – or maybe she did, in the secret compartments of her heart, where she wasn’t lying to herself – she was wrong. On both counts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the topic of promises, I can promise some good ol' supernatural activity in the next chapter ;)


	7. Full Moon and Clear Skies

“I’m going to take you somewhere special.”

“Jack,” Harley whined, tugging at his hand, “you _know_ I don’t like surprises.” He should have known better by now – but he was the type who _did_ like them, especially now that he knew she didn’t. He treated her protests like jokes. Maybe that was fair; after all, most girls who said they didn’t like surprises actually did.

Not Harley. She’d had too many bad surprises thrust upon her in the past couple of years.

“Shh,” Jay said, pressing a cold finger to her lips. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

As it turned out, Harley had gotten used to her boyfriend running cold, even though she’d thought she never would. Now, his chilly touch was almost a comfort – though it could still send shivers down her spine when she wasn’t expecting it. She sighed. “Fine. Please tell me I’m not getting blindfolded.”

“Would I ever do that to you?”

“Absolutely,” Harley deadpanned.

Jack laughed. “Fine, fine, but not tonight, all right? I just want to give you a good time. I’ll even give you a preview, okay? Full moon and clear skies.”

 _Oh,_ Harley thought, pleasantly surprised. _Stargazing_.

“I take it you’re driving?”

“Of course, my love,” Jack said, pressing his palm against the small of her back as he guided her towards his car. “I’m the only one who knows the way. You think you know anything about where you’re headed?” A warning sign, but he said it softly, teasing her. That was why it was easy for Harley to ignore.

<><><>

They drove for a long time – half an hour at least, getting further and further away from the lights of Gotham. Harley didn’t know why her nerves were going crazy, but it was like some primal part of her was giving her a warning. Like if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up careening off a cliff.

She realized with a start that it was an exacerbated version of the slight _wrong_ ness she’d been feeling ever since she got to Gotham.

But she was with Jack. She was safe. Like she’d told him that first night, at the club.

She was with Jack, so she didn’t need to worry that they were driving on an old dirt road or that her phone didn’t have any service when she peeked at it or that she hadn’t seen anyone else in miles.

He opened her door for her and helped her out. He’d parked on a hill, so she had to be careful not to drive the car door into the dirt as she slipped out. It was chilly outside, a perfect October night; wind whistled through tree branches. Harley tugged a down vest – bought from a thrift store a few days ago, so what she would consider new – from the car and popped into it.

“Here,” Jack said, pressing a hand between her shoulder blades as they started walking up the hill. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

They trekked up the hill together. At first she thought they were following a trail – albeit a small one, just a hint of a line through the underbrush that wound beneath the trees – and then she wondered if perhaps she’d imagined it. A few minutes into their walk, she glanced back down the hill and realized that she wouldn’t be able to pick her way back out. At least, not alone. The trees clustered close to each other; she couldn’t tell where she and Jack had come through them.

“Jack, I’m scared.” She hadn’t realized she was going to voice the fear until she did, her voice wavering a little on the last word. She hadn’t been scared – hadn’t _admitted_ she was scared – in a long time.

He chuckled, but his voice wasn’t layered with the comfort she’d expected. It sounded… sharper, somehow. Rougher.

She clutched his arm tighter. “Jack, can we go home?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet, baby. Look, it’s right there.”

And he was telling the truth – it _was_ right there. She could see it, a small glade at the top of the hill, hedged in by tree trunks. They broke out into the clearing together, and for a moment Harley’s heart stopped galloping in her chest. She gazed up at the oval of sky above them. It was like a giant blanket of crushed velvet, tiny star-diamonds embedded in it, sparkling. The moon hung fat and low, almost covered by the silhouettes of tree branches.

She let out a soft breath. “Jack…”

“I know, right? Here, let’s go to the middle, okay?”

She didn’t actually look at the ground as he guided her to the center of the circle. She was too enamored by the sky. Maybe there was a reason people liked living in cities like Gotham; maybe it was skies like these. She’d never seen such a sky in New York. Nothing came close.

“Harley,” he tucked his chin to his chest so his face was closer to hers. She forced herself to look away from the heavens and give him at least part of her attention. “Do you know why I brought you here tonight?”

And suddenly she _did_ know. It was crystal clear. They hadn’t been together long – not long at all, in the grand scheme of things – but there was only one reason she could think of that he’d take her somewhere so private, say something like that. “I… I think so.” She didn’t say the words out loud, but she thought them: _this is a proposal._

“I love you, Harley.” Each word hit her like a perfect note building into a harmony, a chord. “I know this is… fast, I suppose, but I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. I have a gift for you.”

She opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say back – I love you? I understand? Yes, I’ll marry you? – but instead of letting her speak, he caught her mouth with his, and _oh_ , he was opening his mouth now, tentatively, still the gentleman, and she leaned into the kiss. And then her lip… _caught_ , almost, on something sharp.

She drew back, her hand going to her mouth. In the very center of her bottom lip, she could feel blood beading; she swiped it away with a finger, feeling almost dreamy. What had that been about?

“I love you,” Jack said again, hunger in his eyes, “and I want you.” And then he was kissing her, greedy kisses just like that night at the club, just like the alleyway. He kissed a line down her chin, down to her neck, and she got the strangest sense of déjà vu, as if part of her knew he was going to stop before kissing her there, just like he’d done back then.

But then he _was_ kissing her neck, a deep, needy kiss that –

“OH, JESUS FUCK.” Partners had nibbled on her neck before when they were making out, but he’d definitely gone too far. This had been a sharp prick, more than a hickey – Harley tried to pull back, but he… he was holding her to him in a vice grip, his cold mouth still on her neck, like he was… like he was latched on.

That was when it started burning.

Harley screamed. Her mind was a stream of profanity, a conga line of _fucks_. God, it wasn’t just burning, it was like her skin was boiling where he touched it – like with each heartbeat, all the heat in her body rushed from her extremities to that point on her neck.

All the heat…

“HOLY FUCK, JACK, ARE YOU FU…” she stuttered there, her legs giving out on her; he caught her and gently laid her on the ground like he was about to make love to her. He didn’t stop. He didn’t stop _fucking drinking her blood_.

Harley fought as well as she was able. It was incredibly difficult, given that she was pretty sure she’d lost about half of her blood volume and was in immense pain (and her stomach was rumbling – weird, who’d get hungry at a time like this?) but she slammed the palms of her hands against his chest as forcefully as she could, scrabbled at his hair, raked her fingernails down his back.

Nothing loosened his hold. With every passing moment, he just seemed to grow stronger as she weakened, the life draining out of her body.

She had two fleeting, final thoughts as the coldness seeped towards her heart, as the burning grew almost unbearable. The first: _I’m getting fucking vampired because I couldn’t follow fucking rule number one_. The second: _Fucking hell, I could eat a horse._

That was when Jack drew back, her blood glistening on his fangs – _whoa_ , how had she never noticed he had _fangs_ before – and, in the most surprising act he’d done that night (which was really saying something) tilted his head to the side. Like he was… offering his neck. For her.

Harley wasn’t ashamed to say it. Her instinct took over; something deep inside of her suddenly ravenous belly rumbled awake. She barely resisted; she _tried_ , of course, but it wasn’t like she could do much about it.

She drank his blood.

He tasted _disgusting_ , first off – she hated every second of it. Like a suicide drink, one of those ones a frat boy would get at a 7/11 on a dare, mixing every soda fountain drink into a single plastic cup. It was… like that. But less sugary, with a tang of… iron, maybe? And something like dust.

She felt like her stomach was only half full when he dragged her off of him and pressed her to the ground, his hands on her shoulders and his knees on her thighs. She whined – actually _whined_ – as she watched the wound on his neck close up, the blood (his was a deep, unnatural red) stop flowing. She could feel the wound on her neck knitting shut, the contents of her stomach roiling like his blood was some sort of magic potion.

“The next part’s going to hurt,” he told her, more gently than she would’ve thought possible. “But don’t worry, Harley. I’ll keep you safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally we've got some classic vampirism thrown into the mix...


	8. Transformed

Harley tossed, turned, and had an overall terrible night. Nights? She wasn’t sure. Her brain wasn’t functioning as it should have been. She knew a few things, but none of them were particularly helpful.

For instance: she knew she was in for a world of hurt. Her mind had clouded as Jack had carried her back to the car; hot and cold flashes had started to sweep through her body. Really sweep through, so that by the time her ears were red hot, her toes were freezing again. She felt like she had a high fever, and then there was the fact that she had nausea plus vertigo plus a splitting headache. The works, really.

She also had the knowledge that, apparently, vampires actually existed. And that, apparently, she might be in the middle of turning into one.

She didn’t _fully_ acknowledge that particular reality. It seemed too crazy to be real. But the fact that the cold was slowly overwhelming the hot flashes was real. The fact that Jack had taken her somewhere dark and damp was real. The fact that her boyfriend had shoved his teeth into her neck and drank her blood under a bloated moon was _definitely fucking real_.

Harley didn’t know how long she’d been locked up down… wherever she was. Maybe she wasn’t even locked up at all; it wasn’t like she had the strength to get up and go check. Jack visited every so often – she knew at first only because he would run his hands down her arms – but she couldn’t focus enough to understand his murmured words.

The strangest thing was happening to her eyes. When he’d first brought her down here to… wherever she was… she hadn’t been able to see anything. But she was pretty sure that she could make out the faint shapes of a desk in the corner of the room, the edge of the cot beneath her.

She hadn’t been able to do that a few hours ago, had she? No, no, a few hours ago she’d still been cloaked in darkness, and then the coldness had swept into her eyes (she hadn’t known that eyes could feel so _cold_ ), and now, even though it felt like she was looking out at the world through icicles, she could _see_. In the _dark._

Okay, yes, so this sucked ( _haha_ , said the part of Old Harley that still liked puns) but also… being able to see in the dark was pretty damn cool.

It was just the rest of it that hurt. The rest of… well, all of it. The stench of dirt; the cold in her core that just wouldn’t go away; the knowledge that she was becoming some sort of monster. Because… because she remembered what Jack had tasted like, and in her memory, the blood was less disgusting by the moment. She realized it slowly, that maybe… maybe she wanted it. Another taste. Just a little bit more.

Her body was wracked by another shudder, and Harley curled up, hands pressing to her heart in a worthless attempt to keep it warm.

She wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

<><><>

Harley died exactly eighty-two hours after Jack’s fangs pierced her neck.

She was going to be dead for the rest of her life.

<><><>

Harley blinked.

She was… not tired.

She’d been tired for what felt like an eternity as her body fought whatever it had been fighting… a virus? A curse?

Her eyes were closed, but she could feel that someone else was in the room. Her nose told her it was Jack. Wait a second. Her _nose?_

Yes, her nose. She could smell him – he was _sharp_ , like citrus. There was blood somewhere on him. She could tell it wasn’t his.

“Harley,” he said, his voice soft. “Harley, are you with me?”

“Fuck you, asshole.” She pried open her eyelids and tried to sit up simultaneously, fully expecting to pass out. Instead, her body responded like a fine-tuned machine. She could see him, now, even though it was dark – see his green hair and that stupid smile on his face. He was smiling with teeth; she could pick out his fangs from where she sat. He was by the cot, sitting on a chair. Only a couple of feet away.

Her hand was moving almost as soon as she thought about what she was going to do. Fingers forming a fist, arm extending, _wham._

No hesitation. Harley socked him in the jaw and ran.

Or… well, _tried_ to run. He cursed and grabbed at her, managing to snag her leg. She landed hard on the floor and full-on _screeched_ at him. She couldn’t tell if that was the vampirism or the betrayal talking – not that it mattered.

“Harley, slow down! Harley, I—”

“Shut _up_.” She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, to kick at him. If a punch wouldn’t do anything, maybe a size 7 to the face would. But as much as she tried to rain pain upon him, her attempts were largely ineffectual. She felt like a butterfly just out of the chrysalis: weak but still trying to fly. And she was _cold_. Goddamn, she was cold.

“Harley, I love you. I turned you because I love you.”

“ _Jesus_ , Jack, have you ever heard the word _consent_ in your _life?_ ”

“Give me five minutes.” His hand tightened around her thigh. “Five minutes, Harley, please, and if you’re done with me then, if you don’t want to be here anymore, I’ll let you go. Never bother you again.”

That caught her attention. It wasn’t like she was getting anywhere with her current methods. Harley prodded at her teeth with her tongue. Yep. Right where she’d seen them on him: one sharp fang sat nestled on each side of her mouth. _So cold_.

“Fine.” She stopped struggling, trying to be as sullen as possible. It was weird – she realized, with his hands on her skin, that he didn’t feel cold anymore. Not at all. He felt like every other human she’d ever touched.

But he’d been cold before because he wasn’t human. And now he wasn’t cold to her because she… she wasn’t human, either.

She could feel the change in her bones. The shift. The _hunger_.

She sat on the cot. He stayed on the chair. He tried to hold her hands in his as he talked to her, but she didn’t let him. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever let him touch her again.

It was like Columbia, but, you know, a bajillion trillion times worse. At least Professor Tetch had never turned her into an eldritch being of the night.

“Let’s start with this,” Jack said, his tone still pleading. “I want you to be with me forever. I wanted that from the moment I saw you.”

“And you didn’t even _think_ of asking me,” Harley fumed. All of her emotions felt like they’d been ratcheted up a notch. She felt like a live wire.

“I _did_ , Harley, I promise. But… you think if I asked you up on that hill, if I told you I was a vampire… you think you would’ve said yes?”

Harley considered this. “No,” she answered, as honestly as she could. “I would’ve thought you were one of those internet creeps who thinks they can become a vampire by drinking blood. Or a serial killer. But _Jack_ , even if I said no, that’s _my_ choice. I—”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupted her, running a hand through his hair. She bit her lip as he did it; it was unfortunately and inappropriately hot. And she was _not_ going to forgive him. There was nothing he could say to make this okay.

“Harley.” His voice was soft, his dark eyes soft. All of him, so soft. “I’m dying.”

 _Oh_. She couldn’t say anything for a moment. Just sat there, struck dumb. “Umm… you can _do_ that?”

He bobbed his head. “I’ve been around for a bit by now. When you’re… _your_ age, a new-turned vampire, the most you get in the sun is a bad burn – it would take at least fifteen minutes to fry you. You could eat garlic and get the equivalent of an allergic reaction. Holy water would take off a couple of layers of skin and not much more. But _me?_ ” He looked down at his hands, palms facing the sky like he was a supplicant to a god. “Harley, I… I’m fragile. And… I’m scared.”

His voice broke on the admission.

Suddenly, all she wanted to do was hug him. Wrap her arms around him and tell him it would be all right. “Jack…”

“Direct sunlight and I’d be dead in seconds. One garlic clove and I’m a goner. A drop of holy water and I’d lose a limb. Don’t you see, Harley? I couldn’t wait. I _need_ you.”

He needed her. This wasn’t like… wasn’t like Columbia. This wasn’t someone taking advantage of her; Jack wouldn’t betray her. He’d done what he did because he _needed_ her.

She felt love twisting deeper in her heart (or something like it).

“You need me?”

“You’re all I need,” Jack said, opening his arms.

And the next thing she knew, Harley found herself wrapped in them.

<><><>

It was… not fun, being a vampire. For one, Harley loved the sun. But no, apparently that was off limits for her now. She tried going out in the daytime once, remembering what Jack had said about a fifteen-minute limit, but after only thirty seconds of sunlight she was already red as a tomato. She found herself hurrying back into her apartment.

The first thing she’d done when she got home was look in the mirror. According to Jack, she wouldn’t be able to see herself in any mirrors lined in silver, but it seemed like hers wasn’t; she could make out every new feature in stunning detail.

And she hated it.

She’d always been pale, but now she was downright ghostly. Skin bleached almost the same shade of white as Jack’s. Eyes bloodshot. Two pinpricks on her neck when she twisted her head to see if his teeth had left a mark. She looked like she needed a good night’s sleep; her lips were a deep red even without makeup. If she smiled, she could see her fangs.

The hunger had been manageable for the two days since she’d awakened, but she could feel it growing again, the need for… for blood. _I cannot believe_ , she thought, _that I am literally thirsting for blood_.

She was still mad at him. Of _course_ she was mad at him. Just because he could turn into a bat (he’d showed her and then explained that it was an “advanced vampire skill”) and lift twice as much as the average human and levitate didn’t mean she wasn’t mad at him. Just because he needed her didn’t mean she wasn’t mad at him.

But… he loved her.

Which was why, when he asked her to do something for him two days after she’d turned – a favor, a quest, a little adventure that could help him (and didn’t she want to help him? She loved him, didn’t she?) Harley said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, as somewhat anticipated, this is going to be WAY more chapters than I thought. Not only will there be more chapters, but my word length per chapter is creeping up... I did my best but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> For those interested who have commented (MINI SPOILER ALERT, DON'T READ THIS LAST LINE IF YOU WANT TO AVOID ALL SPOILERS) Ivy's first appearance will be at the end of the next chapter, and she's going to be a VERY consistent character from there on out.
> 
> Anyways, my bad for thinking this was going to be done by Halloween. I guess things can still be spooky in early November?


	9. Self-Preservation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, y'all, it's HALLOWEEN. I couldn't just NOT post a chapter (even if it throws off my carefully-constructed schedule...)
> 
> Enjoy a venture into the great unknown.

Harley shivered as she stood at the edge of the Whitman Wildlife Preserve.

It wasn’t that she needed to shiver – she hadn’t _needed_ that since she had her own blood flowing through her veins – but it was a habit nonetheless. Chilly nights apparently didn’t have any effect on vampires, given that they were already cold to the bone.

Still. What better time to shiver than on a night that might be her last?

<><><>

Jack had explained it very carefully to her during the day, the two of them sequestered in her apartment. First, he’d told her that he knew her secret. He knew what had happened to her.

If Harley had still been human, she would’ve paled. As it was, her skin couldn’t get much paler. “You _know_?” But… she’d deleted her social media.

“I looked you up the night we met,” Jack said casually. “Wanted to see what Harleen Quinzel was really like."

Harley turned away from him, suddenly wishing that the apartment was big enough for her to get away. Her breath caught in her throat; she wrapped her arms around her torso like giving herself a hug could ease the awful feeling in the back of her throat. “Well?”

“Well what, Harley?”

“Did you? Did you see them?”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, spinning her back towards him. “Harley,” he said, “I saw _you_.”

So he’d seen them. He’d seen them and he still didn’t care. He’d still fallen in love with her.

Something inside of Harley’s chest relaxed.

“I was thinking, after you turned,” Jack said, his words falling from his lips like he was reciting them from a script, “that… well, your history at Columbia could actually be a blessing in disguise.”

She bit her lip, then winced; she was still getting used to her fangs, and she’d accidentally sliced through the skin. It knitted back together in a moment. If she wasn’t yet used to the fangs, she _certainly_ wasn’t used to the automatic healing thing. It somehow felt like cheating.

 _Back on topic, Harley._ “A blessing in disguise?” She tried not to sound too guarded. Tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Have you ever heard of the Gotham witch?”

That was _definitely_ not where she thought he was going with this discussion. “The one who lives in the bog?”

“That’s her.”

“She’s _real?_ ”

Jack lifted his hands to her face and cupped her chin in his palms. “Oh, Harley,” he said, sounding almost affronted, “you really think vampires are real, but witches aren’t?”

“I hadn’t considered it yet. You expect me to know everything about Gotham’s… supernatural underpinnings after a couple days practice?”

“Fair enough. But let’s get a few things straight. One: the bog witch is real. She’s a real bitch, actually. Nasty as they come.” He gave a short bark of a laugh, pulling up his shirt. “Did you ever notice this?”

Of course she’d noticed his scar – a thin white line looping over his hip, like he’d been whipped in a past life. “That came after you turned?”

“Oh, yes.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “She gave it to me before she knew how to control what little power she possesses.”

 _Ah_. Harley thought she understood. “So… she’d be more in control now, then. She wouldn’t hurt you.”

Jack tossed back his head and laughed like a hyena. Wiping invisible tears from his eyes, he stared at Harley with a sort of mirthful incredulousness. “Harley,” he said, “if she’d known how to control it then, she’d have done her best to rip me limb from limb. Which brings me to point three: she hates me.”

The witch was sounding scarier by the moment. Harley could tell Jack hadn’t meant to let it slip, but she had caught a glimpse of true fear in his eyes when he’d mentioned his potential dismemberment. And if a vampire as old as he was (odd, that she still didn’t know his age) was frightened of this bog witch…

Harley probably should have been scared out of her wits.

She tried to harness the anxiety, to make it productive. “And why is this important? It’s not like I’m ever going to meet her – she doesn’t leave the preserve, right?”

“Patience, Harley,” Jack said, tapping her on the nose. “Point four: the bog witch, vile as she may be, has something I need.”

“ _Jack_ —”

He kissed her, breaking her concentration. As if he was softening her up for what came next.

He drew back, eyes locked on her. “Point five,” he said in almost a whisper, twirling a stray lock of her hair around his finger.

“If you want to prove you love me, Harley, you’re going to have to steal it from her.”

<><><>

Harley took a deep, steadying breath, trying to review what he’d told her to do once she found the witch.

“Won’t it be difficult?” She’d asked. “The wetlands are huge, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jack had replied. “If you don’t find her, she’ll find you. Just make sure to get in a few words before she can take you apart.”

He’d said the words teasingly, but she couldn’t help but feel that he had been entirely serious.

So now here she was. Edge of the wetlands at dusk. It was just past sunset; apparently, the lingering light of the sun was acceptable for vampires, just like the light of the moon. Indirect enough to be safe, from what Jack had told her.

 _Enough stalling,_ Harley thought, steeling herself. _C’mon girl, chin up. You gotta do it. For him._ Another deep breath. She bounced on her toes for a couple of seconds, then nodded to herself. _Going in_.

<><><>

It was darker than she’d expected in the wetlands. Her feet squelched into the quasi-ground beneath her. It wasn’t like there was an explicit path for her to follow; this was a true preserve. She was breaking the law just by setting foot in it.

Not that she had to worry about the law anymore. Unless a policeman staked her through the heart, she’d be fine. She could take care of herself better now than ever.

She tried to convince herself of her newfound invincibility as she walked through the trees. She had changed into clothes that ostensibly could’ve been the human choice for the night: sneakers, jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a parka layered on top. With each _squelch_ , each descent of her feet into mushy ground, she winced.

They’d been nice sneakers at one point. What a laugh.

She felt like she’d been walking for a solid half hour, trying to orient herself towards the center of the wetlands, when she heard the giggle.

It was a solidly creepy giggle, soft and taunting. Harley spun on her heel. It had come from behind her, hadn’t it? Or was that just a trick of the trees? A breeze from nowhere swept through the bog. Harley turned back around.

Floating in the distance was a green light, tinted blue around the edges.

 _Will-o’-the-wisp_.

Maybe, if she needed to find something magical, she could do it by following an incarnation of magic itself.

She struck out towards the will-o’-the-wisp. _Jesus_ , she found herself thinking, _this would have been_ so _much easier if I could smell a damn thing_. It was like the wetlands were built to confuse her senses. The preserve was alive with the small animal noises of the critters tucked in trees and dens, drenched with dank and musty smells that Harley couldn’t pick through even with her newly-developed super sniffer. Even the trees around her felt camouflaged together, almost like they were moving alongside her.

She took another step towards the will-o’-the-wisp and screamed.

The scream wasn’t, in actuality, due to the will-o’-the-wisp. The vine trap she’d stepped into cinched tight around Harley’s ankle and yanked her upside down; she ended up dangling ten feet in the air, swinging wildly as she tried to get herself under control.

“FUCK,” Harley yelled into the wetlands (entirely impotently, she knew). There was no echo; it was like the forest swallowed her words. The murky water that had drenched her sneakers started to drip down the backs of her calves. The world was twisting – or, rather, _Harley_ was twisting, and the damnably stubborn world wasn’t twisting with her. There was no human blood in her to rush to her head, which she supposed was a blessing, but other than that, this was possibly the worst outcome for the night.

She could be stuck here until… until morning. She could be stuck here writhing and trying to free herself until the sun burnt her to a crisp. She’d only been a vampire for a few days and she was already making a mess of it.

She scrunched her eyes closed. One way out. _Turn into a bat_ , she thought, willing her arms to morph into wings. _Turn into a bat, goddamn you._

Her internal tirade of bat-themed admonishments was broken. But not because she’d succeeded.

From somewhere behind her, somewhere she couldn’t see, a woman’s voice rang out, clear as a bell.

“Hello, _bloodsucker_.”


	10. Bog Witch

Harley squirmed and twisted. The vine didn’t care. Apparently, neither did the woman behind her. “FUCK,” Harley said again.

“What dreadfully crass language,” the woman said, her voice smooth as honey. “Let’s get a better look at you, leech, shall we?”

Harley could kinda see someone’s shadow from where she hung, but the woman didn’t seem to be close enough for her to get a good glimpse. With a sigh, she stopped struggling. She waited like a dutiful child for the woman to come around in front of her.

Instead, the vine itself twisted, and Harley twisted with it like a pendulum on a string. As she turned, a shaft of moonlight hit her directly in the face; she came to a stop there, illuminated by the natural light. She looked down; the woman looked up, an imperious tilt to her chin.

 _Oh_ , Harley thought.

Even from upside down, she could tell the woman was a stunner. Her newly-gained visual acuity meant Harley could see the woman perfectly, even in the shadows of the bog. She was, to be completely objective, drop-dead gorgeous (though Harley guessed that analogy might not work now that she already _had_ dropped dead).

She was tall, her posture near-perfect, her arms crossed. Skin a warm brown, a pulse beating in the curve of her neck that Harley could hear even from where she hung. The woman’s hair was an almost unnatural red, as vibrant as autumn leaves; thick, luxurious, a few stray fronds of greenery wound through it that gave it an extra tinge of _wild_. Straight-up L’Oréal-advertisement hair. Harley tamped down a suddenly intense urge to wind her fingers through it.

The woman was wearing jeans – the heavy kind, ones you’d wear for fieldwork – and a flannel with a jacket layered on top. A snug gray beanie that looked warm as all get-out. No shoes, which Harley thought was kinda hot. And definitely a smarter fashion choice than sneakers in the preserve, if Harley was being honest.

And the woman was frowning. Harley really, really didn’t want the woman to be frowning.

“Hi there,” Harley ventured, trying not to sound awkward. “Sorry for the… uh… language.”

“Well,” the woman said, and Harley wondered if she was imagining a catch in her voice. “ _You_ are not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

The woman didn’t respond. Instead, she crossed her arms and bit her lower lip. Harley’s thoughts stopped working for a moment. _Get your mind out of the gutter, goddamn it._ She had to remind herself why she was here. She had to remind herself that Jack existed. She had to remind herself that she needed to find a bog witch, not some hippie who hung out in the wetlands setting traps.

Wait a sec.

“Fuck,” Harley said. “Shit, sorry about the language again. Um… you wouldn’t happen to be the bog witch, would you?”

The woman narrowed her eyes; Harley felt the vines inexplicably tighten around her legs. “This is a _swamp_ ,” the woman spat. “God forbid you read the sign that _explicitly states_ what type of natural environment you’re trampling all over.”

 _Jackpot_. So far, the witch didn’t _seem_ like the she-devil Jack had made her out to be. Actually… she just looked like a peeved twenty-something whose dorm room had just been invaded by freshies. A weird analogy, Harley would admit, but it was near-perfect. Something about the twist to the witch’s expression. “Okay, then,” Harley said, “are you the swamp witch?”

It seemed like a foregone conclusion. That might have been why the witch didn’t bother answering. She just schooled her features into a glower and raised her hand, flexing her fingers towards Harley. The vines tightened again; they were getting uncomfortable. “Unless you want me to dismember you and stake your heart for good measure,” the witch said, as casually as anything, “you’re going to tell me what a new-turned vampire is doing in my home.”

 _Damn it._ Harley tried for an ingratiating grin. “I’m guessing you’re not a vampire fan?”

In response, the vines twisted tighter.

“All right, all right, give a girl a break.” _Damn,_ this girl was testy. Harley shifted, avoiding the witch’s eyes.

This was where, according to Jack’s script, she was supposed to start crying. Except… she didn’t _want_ to cry. New Harley could’ve, sure, but it was like the moment she’d seen the witch, Old Harley had taken the wheel. And Old Harley was one tough son of a gun.

Looked like she’d be going off script, after all.

She sighed. “This dude with green hair turned me like a week ago.” She tried to seem relaxed, but she was keenly aware of exactly what the witch’s face was doing. There was a twitch of one of her eyebrows when Harley said “green hair,” but her expression betrayed nothing else. “Um…” she twisted again, trying to look uncomfortable. That was easy, as she already was. “He told me I was his type, he wanted to be with me forever, yada yada. Once I had my wits about me, I kicked him in the nuts and made a run for it.”

“You… kicked him in the nuts.” The witch sounded incredulous. And even… kinda impressed.

“Hell yeah I did,” Harley said, half acting and half wanting to impress the witch. _Bzzzt. Wrong again, Harley. You’re trying to impress a… a rattlesnake, or something. Remember what Jack said_. One wrong move and she’d be toast. “He’s one rotten son of a bitch.”

“If I…” the witch still sounded guarded, but a little less than before. _Yes._ Harley was getting through. “If I let you down,” the witch said, drawing her shoulders back, “you won’t try anything?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Cross my heart and hope to… _ugh_ , that one doesn’t work anymore.” Was it Harley’s imagination, or did the corner of the witch’s mouth twitch upward? If it had, the witch did a good job of suppressing it. “Point is, I’m not trying to start trouble,” Harley said. “Actually…” (and here she dipped full-on into Jack’s script, the words falling easily from her tongue) “I need your help.”

<><><>

The witch didn’t take Harley further into the wetlands, which was almost what Harley had been anticipating. She lowered her down to the ground (more gently than Harley would’ve expected for a heartless demon) and plopped down on the trunk of a felled tree, splaying her knees like she was manspreading on a subway. It was a gay way to sit if Harley had ever seen one.

The vines didn’t unwind from Harley. With some strategic scooching, she managed to prop herself up on a tree like the witch had. It was hard to look dignified when she was still cocooned in greenery, but she did her best.

The view of the witch was better from down here. Harley could pick out more details; the tiny tattoo of a poison ivy leaf on the witch’s ankle, the few thin braids woven into her mass of hair, the intense focus in her eyes as she stared at Harley.

“Why me?”

“What?” Harley was getting distracted again. Jesus. She needed to keep it in her pants. Wasn’t that what had gotten her into trouble in the first place?

“You said you needed help. How did you end up here?”

“There’s a bog… swamp witch in the Whitman Wildlife Preserve. Everyone on campus says so.”

The witch’s eyebrows shot up; she got them under control after half a second. “You’re a college student?”

“Junior. I… um, I just transferred. There were some… _issues_ at my last school. Columbia.” This was the part that made Harley’s stomach turn. Jack had wanted her to spill the whole story, all at once. She didn’t think she was ready to do that just yet. Even if the witch didn’t seem (so far) like the horror Jack had made her out to be.

“You went to Columbia?” If Harley wasn’t kidding herself, there was a hint of yearning in the witch’s voice. “What was it… what was it like?”

“You don’t get out much, do you?” Harley meant it to be soft, teasing, but the witch seemed to recoil, her gaze hardening again.

She tilted her chin up at Harley in a silent challenge. “You told me how you knew I was here. But _why?_ Why me?”

That one was easy. “It’s not like there are other vampires around just waiting to help a gal out,” Harley said, shrugging as much as she could in her bindings. “Aside from Jack, you were the only one who’d believe me that I could think of. I was just hoping you existed. I thought I’d figure it out from there. I just… he hurt me, you know? I didn’t know what would happen if I tried to find him again. I… I didn’t know what to do.”

Okay, so maybe she felt bad about lying. Especially when she saw the witch’s eyes soften. But apparently, she’d said the right thing; with a twist of the witch’s wrist, the vines sloughed off of Harley, retreating whence they came. And then it was just the two of them, sitting there together. Harley spat a loose strand of hair out from the corner of her mouth, feeling suddenly awkward.

She glanced up at the witch, then waddled forward in a sort of crab walk, trying to look non-threatening, and extended her hand. Her dirty, mud-covered hand. With a self-conscious wince, she wiped it on her shirt to get the swamp muck off and extended it again. “Let’s try this one more time,” she said, giving the swamp witch her biggest Quinzel grin. “Heya. I’m Harley.”

A beat. A moment of hesitation, when Harley felt that the witch was still sizing her up, still cautious. As if she had sensed Harley’s lies and was ready to stake her from behind after all.

But then, to her surprise, the witch took her hand. The witch’s palm was soft and warm – comfortably so, in a way that reminded Harley what it was to be human. Harley could feel the calluses of the witch’s palm; she had an honest, solid grip. Harley could tell she worked with her hands.

They shook. Harley realized all at once that the witch’s eyes were a piercing, otherworldly green; green as a forest at night. Harley swallowed dryly. She didn’t want to look away.

“My apologies for the… inconsiderate welcome,” the witch said. “Any enemy of that green-haired bloodsucker is a friend of mine.”

 _You have no clue,_ Harley thought, almost sorrowful, _that I’m going to betray you_.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the witch said, holding the handshake for just an instance longer than she needed to. “You can call me Ivy.”

 _No clue_ , Harley thought. _No clue at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is officially not just a Halloween fic anymore (nor as short as intended.) Not that I'm surprised. What can ya do?
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the Ivy!


	11. Ensorcelled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all my U.S. readers out there, take this as a moment of brevity to stop thinking about the election results. This one's a nail-biter.

The swamp witch tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, giving Harley that same piercing stare. Like she could see into her soul. (Maybe, with whatever magic she had, she actually could.) “So,” she said, leaning back against the tree and crossing her arms, “did you come all this way just to talk?”

There was an edge of caution to her voice. Harley got the feeling that the witch – Ivy, she’d said her name was Ivy – wasn’t going to trust easy. There was something almost hidden in her eyes, something secret. Harley only recognized that look because she had it herself – she’d seen it looking back at her in the mirror every morning since Columbia.

All at once, she realized why Jack had wanted her to spill her history to the witch – to Ivy. He knew something she didn’t about Ivy’s past. Something that would make Harley’s story – for lack of a better word – _appealing_. Appealing enough to keep her from getting killed. (Or, to be more specific, killed again.)

And it had worked. Harley didn’t have a stake through her heart. (She got the sense that if it had been Jack in the wetlands, he’d have been dead before he’d taken three steps in.) Even better, it seemed like Ivy was willing to talk to her.

“No,” Harley admitted. “I’m having some… well, some issues. I’m supposed to be starting classes soon, but I tried going out in the sun and I,” she chuckled, realizing how funny it was to be saying it, “I toasted.”

“I’d think that’d be obvious,” Ivy said, raising an eyebrow. “Vampires plus sun is never a good combination.”

“I didn’t _know_ that.” Harley let her exasperation bleed into her voice as she shifted back towards her tree. “Jesus, it’s not like I was well-versed in vampire lore. I didn’t _plan_ for this, you know. Besides, how could I have known I’d end up getting a rotten sunburn instead of, like, _glittering?_ ”

“Like the Twilight character?”

Harley bit her lip. Then winced. She’d sliced it open on her fangs again. Ivy noticed; Harley caught the edge of her mouth quirking up. “It’s all super new, okay?” Harley defended herself as she rubbed at her lower lip. “I doubt _you’d_ like waking up with the equivalent of a knife drawer in your mouth.”

“Fair point,” Ivy said, inclining her head.

“What I’m trying to say is I thought you’d have… I don’t know. Spells or something. Or… a sun potion? To help me so I can keep going to classes?” This was the worst part – Harley knew how awkward she must sound. What kind of a person would be worried about getting to class right after being turned into a vampire?

But it was like her words were a catalyst. Harley could _see_ the shift, see the gears start turning in Ivy’s brain as soon as she said them. Ivy ran her thumb across her lower lip, her eyes suddenly far away; she looked like her mind was going a mile a minute. Harley realized with a start that perhaps _Ivy_ was the type of girl to worry about class right after being turned into a vampire.

Funny. Because it seemed like Ivy had been living here for a while. Not a lot of time to pursue higher education.

Harley felt a spark of curiosity flare up in her chest; she tamped it down as soon as she noticed. She couldn’t be wondering about why Ivy was here. She had to think about Jack. If she couldn’t help him, he was going to die. She had to stay on task.

“So?” Harley prompted, feeling weird about interrupting whatever mental processes were going on inside the witch’s head.

Ivy lifted one of her hands absently as if to shoo Harley away. “I don’t have a spell like that. No potion, either.” Then her eyes flicked to Harley, bright with anticipation. “But I think I could figure it out. If I… and then I took… and maybe Merlin’s theorem of reflectivity… yes, I think I could do it.”

“You’re going to…”

“Yes, yes,” Ivy said, her tone impatient as her gaze drifted away from Harley again. “I’ll do it. Give me a week. Here,” she waved her hand and her eyes flashed a dazzling green, if only for a moment. Tiny white flowers popped up along the ground, trailing off into the distance. “Follow those out and be back in a week,” Ivy ordered, getting to her feet in one smooth motion. She turned on her heel and wandered into the swamp in the opposite direction, whispering to herself about ingredients and magical theorems.

Harley considered following her – half of her wanted to, like Ivy had become a will-o’-the-wisp herself, luring Harley into the depths of the preserve. But then she noticed the flower at her feet start to fade.

She had to leave; she had to get to Jack.

She had to tell him she was in.

<><><>

He was waiting for her in one of the side streets near the edge of the wetlands. She sensed him a moment before he swept her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair. “Harley,” he breathed, drawing back, “you smell like her.”

“I’m alive,” Harley said, her nerves buzzing. She wasn’t quite sure whether it was from Jack’s touch or just left over from her encounter with the witch. With Ivy. “Whoopee.”

“Tell me everything,” Jack ordered, setting his hands on her shoulders. “I want to hear it all.”

Harley shrugged and turned to start walking back to her apartment. Jack fell in beside her, his steps matching hers. “It was pretty simple,” Harley said. “She caught me, I told her what you told me to say, and she said she’d get to work on a potion to let me go out in the sun. Let _us_ go out in the sun,” she corrected hurriedly.

“You really fooled the bitch, didn’t you?” She could hear the pride in his voice. Some internal part of her winced when she heard him use that word – it just wasn’t quite right, now that she’d met the swamp witch herself. _Bitch_ and _Ivy_ didn’t go together.

“Actually,” Harley said, tentative, “she didn’t seem that bad.”

“Oh, fuck, tell me you didn’t _fall_ for her bullshit.” Jack’s eyes were dark again, his mouth a taut line.

“Not sure it was bullshit, Jack,” Harley said. Defensive, yes… but she could also feel doubt trickling in. “She… she seemed genuine.”

“She’s good at that. I should’ve warned you. That witch is a seductress through and through. She’d manipulate you into loving her and then betray you in a heartbeat.” He drew in a deep breath through his teeth. “That’s what she did to me.”

Harley felt like her chest was caving in for the briefest of moments. A moment without air. “She… you…”

“We’ve got history. She hurt me bad, Harley. Tore me apart and left me bleeding. Let’s leave it at that.” He nudged Harley with a shoulder and added, half-teasing and half deadly serious, “you sure she didn’t put a spell on _you_?”

And suddenly Harley was reanalyzing every move Ivy – the _witch_ – had made. Biting her lip, tucking her hair behind her ear, acting at the same time strong and uncertain – exactly what Harley had been drawn to. Those moments of hesitation… Harley could see it now. All planned out, to make Harley think she was getting under the witch’s skin. When it was really the other way around.

Harley narrowed her eyes, cursing herself. What else could it have been? She hadn’t gained anything tonight but the most cursory acquaintance with the witch. She realized… that giggle, early on, right when she’d started following the wisp. The witch had been laughing at her. And all that time… she’d been _playing_ with her.

There was no other explanation. The Ivy that Harley thought she’d met was impossible to reconcile with a woman who’d “torn Jack apart _.”_ Which meant the Ivy Harley had met was a lie.

Because otherwise, _Jack_ was lying. And he’d never been anything but honest with Harley about himself. About the people that had hurt him. Even when he’d held off about explaining his vampire-hood, it had been for Harley’s own protection.

The witch, on the other hand, was a wild card. The witch… Harley had been entranced, she realized that now. She’d been fuckin’ _spellbound_. She wasn’t used to this world, the world of magic and vampires and witches who hit you with love spells. God, Harley had spent like ten seconds mooning over the witch _at first sight._ If that wasn’t the sign of some spell, Harley didn’t know what was.

So the witch thought she was a plaything, a little vampire girl who could be caught up in trickery and drawn into a web of magic.

“She _spelled_ me?” Harley couldn’t help it; the statement came out almost pleading, incredulous. As if Jack could’ve saved her from her own stupidity.

“She _is_ a witch,” Jack replied, his tone entirely apologetic. “That’s what she does. You never trust a witch, Harley. Never. Not even one as pretty as that.”

“I’m going back in a week,” Harley said, realizing she was letting her anger taint her words. (Anger at being played, anger at what the witch had done to her Jack – maybe even anger that Harley had been so easily drawn into the witch’s trap.) “If she makes it at all, it’ll be ready by then.”

Jack caught her hand in his and squeezed. “You sure you’re all right, Harley?” He sounded anxious. Worried for her wellbeing.

He didn’t need to be. She’d learned her lesson. She knew what it was like to be manipulated; it had happened once already, and she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She turned to him and kissed him, hard. Grounding herself, reminding herself of what was true.

“I’m all right,” she said, her voice solid as a rock. “I won’t let it happen again.”

And she knew, as she said it, that she wouldn’t. She’d be ready. Ivy – _the witch_ \-- wouldn’t take her unawares again.

Harley would make sure of it.


	12. The Hunt

Jack didn’t teach Harley how to hunt.

She knew that he _went_ hunting – he never seemed as voraciously hungry as she felt the day after meeting the witch – but he didn’t offer to teach her, and she didn’t ask. Sometimes he shifted silently into bat shape and winged his way off to who knew where. Harley accepted his lack of instruction in the collection of blood as a given. She figured it was some sort of vampire initiation – if you wanted to eat, you had to do it yourself.

But… Harley didn’t exactly _want_ to go around killing people. She hadn’t signed up for the vampirism, and she _certainly_ hadn’t signed up to be a murderer. She assumed that Jack drank animal blood; there must’ve been some place around Gotham to get it.

It took only a bit of research – Googling in the middle of the day, her shades drawn and her fingers cold on her phone – to determine that there was a dairy farm at the edge of Gotham – technically, a ten-minute drive from city limits. That explained Jack’s shift into bat form; Harley would imagine it was a much quicker trip by wing.

That night, she stepped out of her apartment as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, found a shadowed alleyway, and spent a solid thirty-two minutes trying to turn into a bat before giving up. If she hadn’t seen Jack actually do it, she’d have assumed he was pulling her leg about the bat thing.

With a grumble to herself, she loaded up in her car and followed Google Maps to the farm.

She parked a few miles away and hiked the rest of it, waiting as the valley slipped further into darkness for the right time to strike. She’d been fairly able to keep her hunger under control thus far; though whiffs of her neighbors had sent her stomach growling and her mouth salivating, a sensation Harley didn’t particularly like, as long as she kept herself focused on other things, she was all right.

But she hadn’t eaten in days, now, and she could hear the first small noises of the cows up ahead. Snuffling, lowing…

She felt the shift in her perception of the world. Everything around her sharpened; sounds became more precise, more telling. The buildings up ahead gained textures and clean edges. Even the feel of the breeze against the nape of her neck was hyperreal. Without realizing she was doing it, she fell into a sort of hunting stance, creeping quietly across the rich earth and towards the sounds of life.

She became aware, when she was close enough to smell the animal musk of the place, of a low drumming. So many drums, in fact, that they were beating as if to drown each other out.

Beating drums…

Oh.

She was hearing their heartbeats.

Harley crept closer. Tried the door of the building closest to her (it was open – thank goodness. She wasn’t sure if her brain was working well enough to help her jimmy it ajar if it hadn’t been.) The animals were lined up in rows, sequestered into individual stalls. As Harley slipped inside, her eyes locked onto the form of the cow closest to the door.

She didn’t have to think about how this would work, didn’t have to strategize. Like the flick of a switch, her hunger took over, and she was descending upon the cow like a wraith. She found a pulse and latched on instinctually, and then there was the _blood_ , filling her mouth and her belly like it had a straight shot down to her stomach. The cow she’d chosen stomped and mooed, but Harley’s arms were like iron bars around its neck.

The other cows were getting restless, waking up. She knew they could smell that something was off. She also didn’t care; she was too focused on her quarry.

To her surprise, she didn’t drain the animal dry. She realized her stomach was full after only a minute or two; she felt sloshy and satiated. With a sensation that was altogether rather odd, she withdrew her fangs and held pressure to the cow’s neck, keeping a consistent weight there until the animal stopped bleeding.

“Damn,” Harley said, impressed. The aftertaste on the inside of her mouth was salty; she tried to swallow it away. “I thought you’d be dead, Miss Bell. Cow Bell, that is.” Harley chuckled to herself, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Miss Bell lowed piteously.

“Sorry, sis.” Harley gave her a conciliatory pat. “It’s the circle of life. We all have to eat, you know?”

Somewhere on the farm, she heard a door slam shut. Her eyes flicked to the cows, most of them still milling about in a vampire-induced panic. She gave them a cheeky little salute. “That’s my cue. That’s all, folks!”

And with that, she was out of the building and into the fields before the farmer had taken more than a few steps.

<><><>

Harley’s mood improved drastically with food. (She wasn’t going to say her mood improved with blood; that _still_ felt too weird.) She felt buoyantly optimistic for the rest of the week. Jack didn’t comment. He’d seemed a little… out of it recently. He still spent time with her, still shared her bed every other night, but he also seemed distracted. When she asked him why, he reassured her that it was “just a project.”

 _Just a project_. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, baby,” he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “You’re already helping more than I could’ve hoped for.”

<><><>

Harley adjusted her collar in the mirror, running her finger under the edge of it. She felt antsy, wired, nervous. It had to be the spell; there was no other reason she would feel this way as she prepared to rendezvous with the swamp witch again.

She’d run through what she needed to do with Jack. It was simple: get in, keep ingratiating herself with the witch, and get out with the potion as soon as she could. If Ivy had even made the potion in the first place.

Harley left her place two minutes after sunset and caught a bus to get to the wetlands. She was paranoid all the way there, worried that someone would call out her pale skin or blood-red lips. No one did. _Honestly_ , she thought, trying to reassure herself, _they’d probably just think you’re a goth. No one’s first thought is vampire_.

The minutes wicked away like oil to a candle flame, so quickly that before Harley knew it, she was standing by the edge of the wetlands again. She didn’t hesitate – if Ivy was here, if Ivy was watching, Harley didn’t want to seem apprehensive. She couldn’t give the game away.

The moment she stepped into the swamp, the air seemed to shimmer around her, glittering waves of green radiating out from where she’d stepped. She assumed she’d tripped some sort of barrier spell; steeling herself, she strode forward into the wetlands, trying to keep on some sort of consistent path. She skirted shallow pools of water and mushy patches of moss. In a flight of fancy as she walked, she decided to use a fallen tree for a tightrope.

Halfway across, her foot hit a slippery spot. Her arms pinwheeled as she lost her balance; she was just tipping off the log when someone’s hand caught her elbow.

Harley screeched. The person’s grip loosened. (Probably, Harley had to admit, from shock; she’d screamed rather loud.) The combination of these factors meant that instead of the hand steadying her, as Harley would surmise it had been intended to, Harley toppled off of the log and landed on top of the witch.

The witch, flat on her back in the muck, stared up at Harley; Harley, who had landed in a pretzel twist that left her legs facing up and her chest against the witch’s, stared back.

 _God_ , she was gorgeous up close. Those deep green eyes, that mass of red hair—

 _Spell, remember, it’s a spell_ , Harley reminded herself.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Harley,” the witch breathed, her voice soft, “I’d appreciate it if you’d get off of me.”

Harley rolled off and squelched into the ground next to the witch. If she’d still had an appreciable amount of blood in her body, her cheeks would’ve been burning. As it was, she was sure they were pink. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “ya surprised me.”

“I was trying to help.” Ivy sounded miffed. She sat up and looked down at Harley with a frown; with a twist of her fingers and a spark of green in her eyes, droplets of muck lifted off the back of her jacket. _A cleaning spell_ , Harley thought, interested despite herself. _Useful._

“I was fine.”

“You were going to fall.”

“And I would’ve been fine. Actually,” Harley sat up and crossed her arms. “I _did_ fall, and I _am_ fine. See?”

“You had a cushion,” Ivy grumbled, getting to her feet. Another strange movement of her hands, another green flash, and her pants cleaned themselves. Ivy brushed off her shoulders – more for show than anything, in Harley’s opinion – and… offered a hand.

Harley took it and pulled herself to her feet. It wouldn’t do to seem ungrateful. Not when so many of Jack’s hopes were riding on her getting through Ivy’s guard.

They stood there for an awkward moment before Harley realized she was still holding the witch’s hand. She dropped it like it was a hot coal. “Uh,” she said, “how’s the swamp?”

Ivy snorted. “Swamp’s fine. You gave me quite the challenge the last time I saw you, but I think I might have managed it. That is, if you didn’t break the container with that fall.” She dipped a hand into one of the deep pockets of her jacket; it reemerged with a tiny glass bottle, stoppered and sealed.

Ivy lifted it up and tilted her head, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Don’t ask just any witch to counter a fundamental phenotype of vampiric biology. It was hard enough to block the ultraviolet frequencies, but to entirely eliminate the interaction between sunlight and the magically altered elements of your superficial squamous cells was—I’m sorry,” she ducked her head, biting her lip. “You probably don’t want to hear about all this.”

“Uhh, it’s fine,” Harley said, her mouth suddenly very dry. Okay, so. Apparently she found that sort of witchy-scientific jargon kinda hot. She filed away that particular observation – and the tingling where her hand had touched Ivy’s – as symptoms of whatever love spell was still in action. The more aware she was of its effects, the better she could fight them.

“Point is,” Ivy said, glancing up and extending the bottle, “I think I did it. Be careful when you test it and let me know how it goes. This isn’t very much – enough to cover you twice over, and each application should last a day in the sun – but I can make more if it works. Think of this as a trial run.”

“A two-day portion,” Harley said, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean I get to come back soon?” _Oh, shit, that is_ absolutely _the love spell talking, Harley. Get a grip_.

Ivy’s lips pressed together in a tight line; she shrugged. “I was hoping so.” Her gaze darted away from Harley. “I mean… I don’t get many visitors. I… it would be nice to see you again. Of course,” she adjusted quickly, straightening her shoulders, “I’m fine by myself, and if you decide you’ll just take night classes or something I completely understand.” She shifted back on her heels.

 _You think you can trick me with a little false nervousness? Try again, swamp witch._ “I can’t stay long,” (the longer she was in Ivy’s presence, the less Harley was sure she could resist that damn spell) “but I’ll be back in two days,” Harley said. She added in a perfectly crafted smile just to be safe. “Sound good?”

Ivy took a deep breath; Harley could see her pulse thrumming in her neck. Just one of the good ol’ benefits of vampirism—she was hyper-attuned to the movement of people’s blood through their bodies. How weird was that? “I’ll see you then. Harley.”

“See you then,” Harley said with a saucy little wink.

 _You’re not going to trick me,_ she thought. _I’m the hunter now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it goes :)


	13. Missing Links

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! We're back! Going to be doing my best to finish up this story in the next couple of weeks or so so I don't leave it hanging -- we're getting closer and closer to the end! Hoorah!

Jack smelled… off. Like grease and metal. Different enough from his normal scent that her vampire nose picked up on it immediately. If Harley hadn’t known better, she might’ve guessed that he’d slept with another girl while Harley was off in the swamp.

He distracted her from the odor soon enough. As soon as he heard what she’d done, as soon as she pulled the vial of sun lotion out of her pocket, his eyes started glittering. The same hunger, the same want, that she’d seen a few times before. He plucked it out of Harley’s hand and lifted it towards the fluorescent lights above them, watching as it sparkled.

“Two days,” he said, “two days! That’s one for each of us, Harley girl.”

Harley’s mind was on what she was going to do with her day in the sun. She’d texted Selina on the bus ride back to her apartment and set up a meeting already; she’d been blowing off Selina for long enough that she was worried it was starting to get suspicious.

“Of course…” Jack hesitated, his gaze flicking to Harley. “Would you mind wearing it tomorrow? If that goes well, I’ll feel more confident about the next day.”

Harley frowned. “You think she might have poisoned it?”

Jack laughed. “You think I’d put the burden of that on you if she had? No, no, Harley, we’ve talked about this. My skin is _fragile_. If something goes wrong, at least you won’t ignite before you can get under cover.” He smoothed a thumb over her jaw, his voice tender. “But you will tell me how it goes, won’t you?”

She started. “Are you leaving?”

“Business,” Jack said with a wink, tossing her the bottle. And then he was gone.

<><><>

“Harley?”

Selina’s voice had a tinge of incredulity. Harley was as layered up as she thought she could be without drawing too many stares in the autumn: hat, sunglasses, sweaters, scarf, the works. She probably looked like she had a terrible cold.

At the very least, the outfit was effective; she hadn’t felt like she was burning up anywhere, not even on the bare parts of her skin she’d slathered in lotion. If the stuff was poisoned, she supposed it wasn’t fast-acting.

Selina was barely bundled up at all; she just wore a long-sleeved blouse and jeans. Perhaps Harley was misjudging the temperature, but how Selina could be surviving without even a jacket on a crisp fall day was throwing her off. Selina looked just like she had the last time Harley had seen her, sharp and pretty.

She also looked like she could tell something was off. She was wrinkling her nose like she’d caught a whiff of something gross; Harley wondered if it was the same musky scent Harley herself had just picked up. “Hey,” Harley said, offering Selina a haphazard smile.

“Where the hell have you _been,_ girl?” Selina seemed unsure. Guarded, almost. She swung a metal chair out from the side of the table opposite Harley and set it down with a clang, settling herself on top of it with feline grace. “Haven’t seen you around in forever.”

Harley shrugged. “I got distracted. My bad.”

Selina eyed her closely. “I’ve gotta say, I was worried. I saw you with Roxy at that party, you know.”

“Oh, shit. _Roxy.”_ Harley bumped her forehead with the base of her palm. “God, I never texted her, I’m such an a-hole—”

“Harley,” Selina interrupted, a dash of urgency in her eyes, “you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

Selina shook her head and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. Harley could see the anger gathering on her face like storm clouds. “Roxy’s missing.”

 _Oh,_ Harley thought. Roxy – the same Roxy Harley had been locking lips with just a few weeks ago – gone. Harley was supposed to have gotten a ride from Roxy in a plane sometime, she remembered that now. And now… Harley’s brain made a connection. A reason why Selina would’ve gone so angry so quickly. “Didn’t that happen to one of your friends? Before college?”

Selina’s eyes snapped to her, flashing gold. “How would you know about her?”

Harley flinched. Selina’s gaze was piercing, almost painful. “Roxy told me. Didn’t give me the details, though. Sorry if it brings up bad memories.”

Selina just stared at Harley for a moment, as if she was deciding something. Then she leaned in close and sucked in a breath. “I’m gonna be straight with you, Harley. I think you’re in some bad shit. I get if you don’t want to tell me, but seriously – stay inside at night and stay the fuck away from strange men, all right?”

Harley stared at her, dumbfounded. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, ready to protest. “I—”

Selina beat her to it. She sounded dead serious when she said it, too.

“Don’t be like Roxy, Harley. Girls that go missing around here don’t come back.”

<><><>

Selina’s words reverberated through Harley’s head for the rest of the day. She could hardly enjoy her newfound ability to spend the day in the sun. All she could think about was Roxy, Selina’s unnamed friend… and the other girls Harley had heard about. _Girls that go missing around here don’t come back._

So instead of spending the day wandering through candy stores and malls, Harley went to Gotham Public Library.

The building was enormous, sprawling across a full city block – Harley thought there were at least a couple of stories, and maybe a basement tucked belowground, too. As soon as she got in, she made a beeline for a librarian, a tall man with a crooked smile and a nose to match.

“Hiya,” Harley said, pushing her sunglasses back and pulling off her hat. “I’m looking for records of the local newspaper? Stretching back at least to… let’s see… probably five or six years ago.”

He grinned at her. “School project?”

“You could say that.”

It didn’t take long for him to get her set up in the midst of a wealth of old newspapers. The library archives were in the basement (musty and dusty but devoid of windows, which made Harley feel immeasurably safer). With a nod and a reminder to be careful with the materials, he left her to it.

She found the day’s newspaper first. Buried on one of the back pages was a notice about Roxy. _Local College Student Missing_. A tiny picture of Roxy, hair drawn up in a glossy ponytail and grinning at the camera, was printed just below the headline, as well as a brief description of her last known location and what she had likely been wearing. Harley’s heart pinched as she read the article.

And then, because she was curious (though Harley’s curious would likely have been Selina’s nosy) she searched through the backlog, looking for Selina’s friend.

Before she found the friend, she found eleven other missing girls. Always tucked away behind Sports and Entertainment. Short paragraphs squeezed into columns the size of advertisements. Some didn’t even have pictures. Harley’s brow furrowed as she flipped another page and found another missing girl.

Most of them were high school through college age, a couple of them women in their thirties. No men, though. Never men.

“Ma’am, we’re about to close.”

Harley looked up with a start. She still had only gotten about three and a half years back – she certainly hadn’t reached the era of Selina’s friend. Still, it wasn’t like being a vampire gave her mind-control powers. (At least, not that Jack had told her of.) And even if it had, she wouldn’t have used them to stay later at the library to do more research. That sounded more like something Ivy would—

No. _No_. Harley didn’t even _know_ Ivy. How in the world had she convinced herself Ivy was an academic? Harley needed to shut that shit _down._

She could always come back to finish her search. Making the decision to do just that, Harley left the library to find that it was dark. Jack would be looking for her.

She pushed away an inkling of an idea that had been nagging at the back of her mind. An idea so dangerous she barely wanted to entertain it, even for an instant.

That maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only girl Jack had secreted away in the night.


	14. The Rules of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

“Okay, so, I’ve been curious.” Harley picked her way through the swamp behind Ivy, trying to follow in her footsteps (somehow, the places Ivy stepped never seemed to sink in; the ones Harley found her footing on always did). Harley had made the decision before she’d returned to the swamp to have something other than solutions to her (read: Jack’s) vampire problems to talk about – she didn’t want to seem too suspicious. So she’d settled on what _she_ considered to be quite an interesting topic. “How does all the magic stuff work?”

The swamp witch laughed – for a moment, Harley thought she wasn’t going to answer the question. But then Ivy paused, resting one hand against the trunk of a tree, and glanced at Harley over her shoulder. “You’ll have to be more specific, daffodil.” The nickname fell off her tongue as easily as anything – and she turned away so quickly Harley wondered if she had surprised herself in saying it.

Still. That was… kind of nice.

“Witch magic, I guess? I didn’t know there were other kinds.”

“Ah, well,” Ivy ducked under a low-hanging branch and turned to wait for Harley in a shaft of moonlight. It dappled her skin, silvered the edges of her red hair. “There are others. Vampires technically operate under a form of magic. Selkies, shapeshifters, cryptids… each magic in their own way. The kind you’re talking about, though, my magic, well… witches, warlocks, wizards, we all have the same sort of system. Three tiers of… magical access, I suppose you’d say.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Verbal, tangible, physical.”

Harley paused next to her. “How much further to this spot of yours?”

“Not far,” Ivy said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “A little patience?”

Tonight, Ivy had promised a more comfortable place for the two of them to talk. Harley had surreptitiously asked if it was Ivy’s home, a question that Ivy shot down immediately. Well… not quite shot down. Ivy had just glanced at Harley with a raised eyebrow and asked why it was important.

It was important because Jack wanted to know where in the swamp Ivy spent most of her time. Harley did not say this. Instead, she let Ivy lead her off into the preserve.

“So,” Harley prompted, “verbal?”

“The most basic way to access one’s internal well of magic,” Ivy explained. “Which, by the way, not everyone has. That’s what gives someone the potential for witchcraft – whether they’ve got the gift in the first place. It’s actually quite fascinating how magical propensity so often travels along genetic lines—” she coughed, interrupting herself. “Sorry. Doing it again. Anyways, verbal magic is easiest – you use spells and rhymes to shape the magic in you and allow it to have an effect on the world. Channel it through language, basically.”

Harley frowned as Ivy began walking again. “But… you didn’t use words when you had me wrapped up in that vine. The first time we met.”

Ivy shook her head. “Second type of magic is tangible. Object-based. A witch can have some sort of magical talisman through which they focus their internal magic. It can’t be just anything, though – crystals are usually good, or specially carved stones or pendants. You’ve got to be a midlevel magic user for that.”

“That’s you?” Harley said, half a question and half a statement. “You use a talisman?”

Ivy bobbed her head yes. “It makes the magic come naturally,” she explained. “And I don’t like having to talk out loud to cast spells. It makes me feel too exposed – it’s quite obvious when I’m doing it.” She grinned. “And… we’re here.”

Harley had gotten distracted. But as soon as she stepped past Ivy into the clearing, she knew Ivy was right – they were there.

A soft, mossy carpet spread across the clearing. Several pieces of what Harley would call “furniture,” grown from the ground out of new wood and covered in green, sat around the area. As soon as Harley stepped into the clearing, she let out a sigh of relief – no wet or muddy spots here. “Wow. Gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” Ivy said, her voice sparkling with pride. “It’s an achievement, no?”

Harley plopped herself down on a mossy loveseat. “Physical magic? Was that where we were?”

“Mmm. Physical magic is the most challenging. As a strategy for drawing from one’s inner magical potential, it entails using one’s body as the channel.” Ivy perched on a wide chair across from Harley, bridging her hands as she spoke. “ _Very_ difficult. Most witches take at least fifty years to master the technique. I’ve heard that moments of extreme emotion can facilitate the process, but that’s an unsubstantiated idea; most of the spellbooks I’ve read state that age and experience are the only ways with which to gain the skill.” She blushed, ducking her chin. “I’m still working on both.”

“So you’ve never done it, then? Physical magic?” Harley found herself inordinately interested, learning forward with her attention all on Ivy.

“I didn’t say that.” Ivy’s voice went quiet, her eyes distant. “Let’s just say I’ve never accessed it when not… under duress.”

“Oh.” Again, Harley thought of Columbia. And wondered.

“But that’s not relevant to the topic at hand,” Ivy said, shaking her head. Her eyes brightened, darting back to Harley’s face. “Tell me – how did the potion work?”

“Like a charm,” Harley said, snorting at her own joke. “Not a burn on me.”

“ _Details_ , Harls.”

Harley got the instinct to cover her face before she remembered she shouldn’t be blushing. Especially not just because nobody had ever called her _Harls_. And _especially_ especially not because she’d liked it.

So they sat there for a while, chatting back and forth about Harley’s experience with the sun potion. The conversation drifted from there into Harley’s schooling, her background. Ivy carefully steered the discussion away from anything having to do with her past; Harley figured that this was simply fair play, given that she herself was purposefully avoiding talking about Columbia. Not the classes – the _thing_ itself. With Professor Tetch.

Harley lost herself, for a while. Forgot why she was there and why she was doing this. She remembered after what felt like forever – she knew she’d already been there an hour, maybe two.

She had to come back with something new for Jack. _Had_ to. So…

“Remember that magic stuff?” Harley tried to sound casual. “Mind showing me your talisman?”

Ivy hesitated. She bit her lower lip, eyes darting away from Harley’s. “I… I’m not sure—”

“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” Harley reassured her. “I was just curious.” She got the sense from the conversation they’d had that the less pushy Harley was about it, the more likely Ivy would be to give in. Which was a bit of a gamble, Harley knew, but maybe…

Ivy glanced up at Harley again. Like she was making some sort of silent assessment. And then she tugged at her collar, hooking her index finger under a long piece of black twine. She pulled a pendant out from beneath her shirt and held it up in the air, letting it twirl.

It was a beautiful piece – if Harley wasn’t mistaken, she would’ve said it was made out of obsidian. It was a smooth oval, for the most part, about as long as Harley’s thumb – carved into a spiral that was almost hypnotic as it twirled. “Whoa.”

Ivy tucked it back under her shirt like she was embarrassed, shaking her head. “I… I probably shouldn’t have shown you that.”

“That’s all right,” Harley said with a grin. “It’ll be our little secret.”

<><><>

“She uses a pendant to channel her magic,” Harley explained, tucking her chin into the nook of Jack’s shoulder. “So that’s how the magic stuff all works, those three types of access. Oh, and this should be enough potion for five more days in the sun.” She tucked a new glass bottle into Jack’s palm.

“Harley,” Jack’s voice was soft. “I don’t know if you realize how important it is to me that you’re doing this, but I just want you to know you’ve been successful beyond my wildest dreams.” He shifted and turned, searching her eyes for… something. She wasn’t sure what. “You’re the best goddamn thing that’s ever come into my life.”

And really, that was enough.

Or… it should have been.

So why couldn’t Harley stop thinking of the flush in Ivy’s cheeks when she’d tucked the pendant away?

And why did Harley still feel guilty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Harley. You'll figure out why soon enough.
> 
> (please excuse the cute and flirty discussion of magic systems. I promise it'll be relevant.)


	15. Illicit Affairs

Harley went back to visit Ivy the next night.

She wasn’t obvious about it. Mostly because she’d decided not to tell Jack. And while she _knew_ it was a bad idea, knew that she should have told him, she was unreasonably worried that he would tell her _not_ to go. And… Harley really wanted to go. She just… she wanted to talk.

As strange as it was to realize it, Harley was _lonely_. She wasn’t spending much time with Selina anymore, Jack was often away, and besides, even when he was around, sometimes she felt like he wasn’t really _hearing_ her. Wasn’t paying as much attention to Harley as Harley was paying to him.

Harley never felt that way with Ivy. And even if it was a spell making her feel that way, she had decided that it didn’t really matter.

She walked all the way, the wind skipping cold against her skin. When she neared the swamp, she caught a glimpse of that cat – the same one, maybe, that she’d seen the first time she’d ever come to the wetlands. She clicked her tongue at it hopefully, but it hissed, back arching, and took off into the night.

Even cats hated her. She’d hit a new low.

Harley paused at the edge of the wetlands, letting the scent sink into her. It wasn’t as confusing as it had been the first time; now, she could pick out a few of the different smells. Still water and algae. (If she’d never been turned into a vampire, she didn’t think she ever would have realized that algae had a smell.) A slight hint of fish. The sweet scent of the little white flowers that Ivy always grew for her, faded but still drifting in the air – Harley figured that was probably a leftover of the night before.

She sat down and pulled off her shoes, tying the laces together and then to the belt of her jeans. Then she stripped off her socks and stuffed them into the toes of her sneakers. Vampire skin was hardy stuff; she’d figured she might as well start taking advantage of it.

And Harley stepped into the wetlands.

She knew by now that Ivy would find her if she wandered around long enough. So she did just that, letting the swamp surround her, feed into her soul. It was almost… peaceful. She was careful not to step in anything particularly squelchy – tried to pick her way through like Ivy always did, avoiding the soggy spots. To her surprise, she felt like she was getting the hang of it by the time a familiar form came up on her left.

“Harley,” Ivy’s voice was tinged with anxiety. “Did the potion not work? Did you burn?”

Harley hadn’t been thinking of the potion at all; Jack had kinda… commandeered the last batch. Harley glanced at Ivy. She was wearing the exact same outfit she had been when they’d met; part of Harley wondered how many clothes a swamp witch could conceivably own, if said swamp witch didn’t often leave the swamp.

Still. She looked hot as hell.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that.” The potion thing threw Harley; it seemed far too… thoughtful. Maybe that was why she let the truth slip out so easily. “I didn’t come because I _need_ something, I just… I wanted to talk with you.” She tried not to look at Ivy. It had been a long time since she’d admitted something like that. Harley felt like she’d been a kiss first, ask questions later gal ever since she’d gotten to Gotham.

And here she was, with someone she quite decidedly wanted to kiss. Asking questions first. “Did you always live here?” Harley blurted out, hoping she didn’t sound unbearably rude.

Ivy didn’t answer for a moment. They walked side by side for a stretch, silence hanging between them. “No,” Ivy said softly. “But I suppose you knew that.”

“It _does_ seem like it’d take some pretty weird shit for you to be… umm… _created_ here,” Harley admitted. “Like, sentient trees raising you or something.”

“Sentient trees might’ve been better,” Ivy said, a hint of an edge to her voice. “And I wasn’t _created_. I was born. Just like you.”

“Oh.” Harley didn’t know what she’d expected. Part of her had wondered if, just maybe, Ivy had sprung out of the ground fully-formed and spell-slinging.

Ivy sighed. “I… I’ve been around these parts a few years. This is my home, now.” She cracked a half-smile. “Trees are good company, when you know how to listen to them.”

A month ago, Harley would’ve turned tail and walked the opposite direction from anybody who said something like _that_. But this wasn’t a month ago. This was a witch-girl who sounded wistful and sweet and even if this was the spell talking, Harley didn’t really care. “Can you teach me?”

“What?”

“How to listen to the trees? Can you teach me?”

Ivy bit her lower lip. “I’m not sure you could… well, you don’t have magic. I mean, if you did, it would’ve been snuffed out when you died. Magic is a living thing. Not like what you…”

“Bloodsuckers?”

“ _Vampires_ ,” Ivy corrected, a flush darkening her cheeks. “Not like what you vampires have, with the turning into bats and drinking blood and whatnot. Besides,” she darted a teasing glance at Harley, “I’m not exactly sure you’d have the patience to sit and listen to trees for a few hours.”

“While I should protest that assumption, you are unfortunately correct,” Harley declared, turning so she was facing Ivy as they walked. “You’ve somehow gleaned a perfect knowledge of my greatest flaw in the course of… what is it… three conversations?”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Your greatest flaw is impatience?”

Harley shrugged. “What can you do?”

Impatience was _not_ her greatest flaw. She knew that. She knew that in the pit of her stomach, so deep that it hurt to think about it – which was why she didn’t. She wanted to be Old Harley, cocksure and brazen and, yes, _impatient_. Not New Harley, with fears and issues she didn’t want to name.

Ivy laughed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. And the movement was so easy, the levels of shy and awkward just enough to set Harley’s heart aflutter. As if on impulse, Ivy reached out, grabbing Harley’s forearm and stopping her in her tracks. She looked into Harley’s eyes, and they were… they were _definitely_ too close, in Harley’s opinion. It was making it hard to concentrate. “I know I don’t know you,” Ivy said, her voice clear and quiet, “but. Harley. Har-ley.” She teased out the syllables, rolled the name around in her mouth, and Harley tried not to look at her lips. “I know I don’t _really_ know you. Not yet. But... I’d like to.”

<><><>

Harley went back.

She knew it was idiotic. Knew that Jack would kill her (for the second time) if he found out. But it was as easy as Ivy saying those words: Harley wanted to know _her_ , too. She wanted more conversation, more soft touches, more accidental nicknames, more of hearing her own name on Ivy’s lips.

No, she really didn’t care that it was a spell. Not at all. She was lonely, and Ivy was lonely, and together they were the opposite of loneliness. Harley let other things slip – she stopped responding to Selina’s intermittent texts, didn’t go out during the day (Jack still had the lotion), and didn’t go back to the library. Instead, she researched plants. She found tiny rocks on her walks around town that she never would’ve noticed before and brought them to the swamp. She _talked_.

Talked and talked and _talked_ with Ivy.

And after almost a month of secret meetings interspersed with information-gathering missions for Jack, Harley almost forgot why she was supposed to hate the swamp witch. Because the more she got to know her, the harder it was to believe that she was evil. That she’d broken Jack’s heart.

Which was why, when Jack told her it was time to get herself invited to the swamp witch’s inner sanctum, Harley _almost_ decided not to try.


	16. Faded Loyalties

Harley was perched on a low-hanging branch, watching Ivy work her magic. Ivy was fixing up a hidden pathway through the swamp – made, Harley was happy to say, specifically so she herself wouldn’t have so much trouble with the muck when she was visiting – and as Ivy’s hands twirled in the air, tree roots shifted and groaned as they wound together to make a path. Wisps of green leaked out the corners of Ivy’s eyes as she worked; Harley could still see the whites of her eyes, but the green almost overwhelmed them.

With a little sigh of contentment, Harley leaned back up against the tree trunk.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, but at some point, the swamp had become like a second home to her. More comfortable than her apartment – and _certainly_ more comfortable than the city at night. Harley still didn’t understand how Jack could spend so much time out and away from her at night.

Sure, she was a vampire, but sometimes Gotham’s shadowy alleyways and broken streetlights still scared the bejeezus out of her.

Ivy paused in her task, swiping a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes. She’d wound her hair into a thick braid that trailed down her back, shifting as she worked. The magic faded from her eyes as she took deep, replenishing breaths.

“Hey, Ives,” Harley called down.

Ivy glanced up. “Bored yet?”

“Of watching you? Never.” Harley’s words caught in the back of her throat for a moment – she almost, _almost_ didn’t say them. “I was just wondering. When are you gonna take me back to your place?”

If Harley didn’t know better (which… maybe she didn’t) she would’ve sworn Ivy blushed.

“Is there… is there a reason for that?” Ivy’s voice was uncertain. Querulous.

Harley shrugged. “I dunno. I just figure it’d be cool to see where you stay when I’m not here, you know? I like seeing people’s rooms. You could come see mine sometime.” She meant it to be a welcoming suggestion, but Ivy flinched.

“Out in Gotham with that green-haired bastard roaming around? No thank you, daisy.” Her tone was a mix of bravado, hatred, and… was that _fear_?

“Sorry, sorry.” Harley course-corrected with ease. “No need for you to leave. But… do you think you could show me? Sometime?”

She could tell it was a big ask. And she could tell that Ivy was trying not to show it. But then Ivy shrugged. “I guess I can take you there.”

“When?”

Ivy’s gaze tripped up to Harley’s, and there was so much trust there Harley could hardly bear it. Ivy smiled. “You know what? Let’s make it tonight.”

<><><>

Ivy’s home was a fortress. Harley knew that much before they even reached it. Ivy had driven towards the center of the swamp, steps sure, as soon as she’d finished up one of the last supports for the pathway. She’d tossed a nonchalant, “if you want to keep all your limbs, make sure you follow in my footsteps” over her shoulder as she started walking.

So… uh… _that_ wasn’t super encouraging. Harley found herself paranoid, trying to place her feet exactly where Ivy had. She did, in fact, want to keep all her limbs.

The closer they came to what Harley surmised was the center of the swamp, the slower the going got. Ivy started pausing every fifty yards, lifting her hands in the air and doing some sort of complicated spellwork to bring down invisible barriers (green leaked out of her eyes every time). Once she and Harley passed through, Ivy would turn and put the barrier back up. After some careful observation, Harley realized she was repeating the same spells in reverse.

Harley knew they were there at last when they arrived at the wall.

And by wall, she meant _wall._ A thick, overgrown barrier of solid green, edges reaching out to the sides so far Harley couldn’t see where they ended. In fact, it looked like it was curled inward; like it was a giant well protecting something inside.

Harley’s breath quickened. She expected Ivy to brush aside some of the vines hanging down the front of the wall and reveal a secret door. Instead, Ivy took a deep, steadying breath, raised her hands, and twisted them outward.

The wall itself groaned, the tangles of green and brown shifting away from a single point to allow for a human-sized passageway to become visible. Ivy, still trailing green mist, turned sideways and slipped through. Harley swallowed. And followed. The wall closed behind her.

And there she was.

The wall extended above them in a dome, creating something more like a house – or a plant igloo, if Harley was going to be creative – than an outdoor arboretum. Tiny colored lights floated around; Harley watched as a red one bumped into a yellow and the two of them merged for a moment, becoming a fire-orange glow, before hitting the wall and splitting again.

There was a wide bookshelf at the corner of the room, grown of living wood and filled with textbooks, novels, and tomes that looked older than Harley, their covers faded and flaking. What looked like a makeshift lab table sat at another end of the space, covered in familiar bottles and unfamiliar potions. There was a chest set at the end of the bed – Harley supposed that was probably where Ivy kept her clothes. Every piece of furniture, bed included, was magic-grown.

 _Textbooks_ , Harley thought with wonder, _Jesus. What are this girl’s priorities?_

Yep, it was confirmed. For a swamp witch’s home, it was incredibly nerdy. It fit Ivy to a T.

“Wow,” Harley said, trying not to look entirely overwhelmed.

Ivy ducked her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You like it?”

“This is… wow,” Harley said again. “This is beautiful.”

Ivy glanced up, her gaze meeting Harley’s for the briefest of moments. “You think so?”

Harley said it without thinking, without processing what she was doing. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

It took a second for her brain to catch up. _WHOA. Hold up, now, Harley, what in the ever-loving hell are you doing?_

Ivy’s mouth had parted, shock caught on her face. She hadn’t blinked.

_Love spell, Harley, love spell. Don’t forget the fucking love spell!_

Except… Ivy looked so genuinely surprised. Now that Harley thought about it, there was one constant any time she saw Ivy using magic: her eyes glowed green. And… Harley couldn’t think of a time when Ivy could’ve cast a love spell. If her eyes hadn’t glowed green during any of it.

 _Oh_.

If Ivy wasn’t spelling her… Harley was doing this all by herself. She’d _always_ been doing it by herself.

She felt panic rising in her chest. No, no, she’d thought she had this under control, and now she was reminded of the _last_ time she’d thought she’d had everything under control. Columbia. Professor Tetch. When she’d thought she’d known what she was getting into, and instead had destroyed her own life.

It was too much, too much fear, too much confusion, too much truth. Harley broke eye contact with Ivy and turned on a dime, striding toward the wall whence they’d come. “I gotta go,” she choked out, wondering for a brief moment if Ivy wasn’t going to let her.

But the greenery drew back to let Harley pass, and she stumbled forward and away, leaving Ivy alone.


	17. Too Close for Comfort

The barriers, it seemed, were built to keep things out, not in. Harley found this out in what _could_ have been the hard way; she accidentally ran through the first one without realizing it. She regretted it for the briefest of moments – that was when she knew she couldn’t turn back, after all – but then the confusion and anxiety started up again, and she just kept running.

If she’d been in a different mindset, it might’ve been gratifying that she was able to make her way out of the swamp all by herself. She’d have realized that she’d been coming there long enough that she was starting to recognize this gnarled tree, that pool of water. But she wasn’t thinking about any of that.

She was thinking about red hair, and green eyes, and mistakes.

<><><>

When she finally emerged from the swamp and started trekking back towards the bus stop, she was ready to be home. She wanted to curl up under a blanket and try not to think.

As she passed the old Gotham Jail, she saw the cat again. Its eyes flashed gold. “Heya, kitty” Harley said, pausing. For once, the cat didn’t take off at the sight of her; it just sat there, tilting its head with what she could’ve sworn was confusion in its eyes. Harley realized it was the first time she’d seen the cat _after_ she was done with the swamp, not before; maybe the smells were masking her vampiric odor, if that was a thing.

Harley plopped down on the ground. At the moment, she didn’t really care that it was freezing out and anyone who saw her would think she was crazy. She just needed someone to talk to. And the someone she would _prefer_ to talk to – a certain swamp witch – was, unfortunately, the thing she needed to talk about.

So she figured a cat would do.

“I think I’m destined to screw over my own life,” Harley said. The cat’s tail twitched; Harley caught a whiff of musk in the air. “I just… ah, well, I thought I’d been spelled. And it turned out I hadn’t been. And I couldn’t handle that.” Harley shook her head. “This probably all sounds like nonsense to you. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about the look on her _face._ ”

The cat meowed piteously.

Harley sighed, pressing her face into her hands. “Fuck.” Jack was probably waiting for her at home – if he wasn’t out on “business” again. She’d been so sure she was going to share everything she’d learned about Ivy’s home base. And now, Harley wasn’t so sure at all.

<><><>

Harley needed to be distracted. That was possibly what she needed most in the world, actually; the only unfortunate part was that she generally had a hard time distracting herself. So she took a bit of the sun lotion (Jack hadn’t left her much, but she had enough to cover the bits of herself her clothing didn’t reach) and went back to the library. (To be completely honest, she’d asked herself WWID – what would Ivy do? The answer was: research. Luckily, Harley expected the continuation of her research to be completely and fully distracting.)

She found the same newspaper archives she’d been hunting through before and started working back. Selina’s friend, that was right – that was what she’d been looking for before she’d gotten distracted the first time.

It was funny, how many things stood out once you knew what you were looking for in Gotham. Reports of strange lights; ads for positions that Harley was fairly sure didn’t exist; even, in one notable instance, a reverse lost pet notice, asking if anyone had lost a black cat with golden eyes they had picked up near the swamp. Harley wondered absently if it was _her_ cat the person was talking about and kept flipping through.

She’d gotten five or six years back – she wasn’t quite sure, as she hadn’t been keeping exact track – when she saw the picture.

Her breath stopped in her throat.

The missing girl notice was tucked behind Sports and Entertainment, as usual. The girl was grinning, a spray of freckles covering her nose; in the picture, she had braces. Her hair was frizzy and mussed, and even though the photo was printed in black and white, Harley knew exactly what color that hair was. Red as a sunset. Red as a kiss.

It was, without a doubt, Ivy.

_Ivy._

_Local High School Prodigy Missing_. _Pamela Lillian Isley, daughter of respected community members Paul and Lillian Isley, has not been seen for two days. Pamela is a high-achieving sophomore at Gotham High School; she has received regional and national awards in science and trivia competitions. She was thought to be wearing jeans and a white t-shirt when she went missing. Please contact (044) 312-2122 with any information as to her whereabouts._

Harley kept flipping through, back a few years and then forward again. Ivy was the only high schooler to have gone missing in that timespan. Which meant… Ivy had been Selina’s friend.

Selina’s friend. Still alive.

Harley tilted back in her chair, pressing a hand to her forehead. She was kinda reeling at the moment. There was no way Selina could know – not after the look she’d given Harley when Harley had mentioned the disappearance. But Harley only had more questions – why in the _world_ wouldn’t Ivy have reached out before now? Why would she have chosen to live in the wetlands? How had she become the swamp witch?

<><><>

At the edge of the wetlands, two figures stood in a stalemate. One was wrapped safely in the arms of the swamp, grounded and sure. The other stood like a wraith just past the edge of it.

“Beautiful night for a rendezvous,” Jack said, running a hand through his shock of green hair. “Thanks _so_ much for suggesting it. I always love it when random bushes make a grab for my privates so they can give me a message.”

“Crass as always, Napier,” Ivy said, arms crossed tight over her chest. “I’ve called you for a bargain.”

“Oh?”

“The girl you turned. The one that got away.” Ivy lifted her chin, a silent assertion. “I know you’re planning to find her again; that’d be just like you.”

Jack’s face stayed serene as a pond at night. “And?”

“You leave her alone,” Ivy said.

“Or what?” Jack laughed, harsh and grating. “You’ll try to _kill_ me?”

“No. I _will_ kill you.”

“I’m so scared,” he said, and there was still a smile on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. As if he could see that she was more serious than she’d ever been. “You know, Pamela, I made a mistake with you,” he said, tone far too casual for the topic at hand. “Oh, yes… I can’t _imagine_ what you’d taste like now. All those years for the magic to coil and boil in your veins…” He met her eyes and licked his lips.

“You don’t scare me, Jack.” Ivy’s expression said otherwise – just as much as she scared him, he scared her. Though neither would be the first to admit it.

“I should.”

“Harley,” Ivy said. “The girl,” she corrected herself, “since I’m sure you didn’t bother to learn her name. You barely bothered to learn mine.”

Jack grinned. “Don’t you worry yourself over Harley,” he said, a sparkle in his eye, “I’m closer to her than you think. At _least_ as close as you and Wood—”

Something snapped between them, then. He’d taken it a step too far, and they both knew it. Ivy’s hand was shooting out towards him, and he was twisting into a bat; the vine aimed for his heart speared into empty air.

The vampire winged away into the night, and the swamp witch cursed under her breath as she watched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a bit, and I know this story has dragged on for a while, too... but I really, really want to be able to say that, tentatively, it's going to have consistent updates until it's done. We're getting closer, folks :)
> 
> p.s. do people actually use/like chapter summaries? I can start doing them but wasn't sure if they'd actually be useful -- lmk in the comments if you have an opinion


	18. Kill Switch

“Harley, baby,” Jack said, skimming his fingers along her shoulders, “I think I’m gonna need you to kill the witch.”

Harley started. “What?” She knew she hadn’t been the most responsive that night; she’d gotten back to her apartment late after wandering around town for who knew how long, thinking about that newspaper article. And he’d returned to the apartment later still – for once, looking less than put together. He’d looked… shaken.

Afraid, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“The swamp witch,” Jack said casually. “You know. _Her_.”

Harley found that her head was shaking. She hadn’t particularly decided to shake it; it had made that choice of its own volition. “You said you needed her, Jack. Wasn’t I going to ask her for a fix for the holy water weakness next? And what about the sun lotion, we might run out—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jack said, tone clipped. “She’s become more of a threat than I ever thought she’d be, Harley, and… I just can’t handle the thought that she might kill you.”

Harley tilted her head back, looking up at Jack. He was sitting behind her, propped up against the headboard of the bed, and in that instant, she almost didn’t recognize him. _Funny,_ she thought, _because I haven’t been worried that Ivy would kill me in a long, long, time._ Funny, she thought, because she caught the barest hint of that white-flower scent as she turned her head toward Jack.

He’d been to the swamp. He’d been to the swamp and seen Ivy. And now he wanted Harley to kill her for him.

Was this the same man who’d drawn her aside on the dance floor? Who’d whispered a sweet gentleman’s words in her ear and enchanted her? Maybe not. But it was _certainly_ the man who’d turned her into a vampire without so much as a question of whether it was something she’d like to be.

She felt her heart hardening against him, then. It was as easy as that: like the instant he’d asked her to kill Ivy, the confusion she’d been wrestling with dissipated, her thoughts crystallizing into _truth_. Into _right_.

Jack was not right. She didn’t know how she’d ever thought that he was.

“Okay,” she said, rolling off the bed and getting to her feet, “I’m ready.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, now? I thought we—”

“Better to get it over with quickly,” Harley said, tugging on her boots. She pulled a sweater over her head – one that she thought Ivy might like, though she wasn’t fully conscious of that particular motivation for wearing it – and swept a scarf around her neck.

“Harley, I’m not so sure—”

“You said it yourself, didn’t you?” Her tone was clipped. “She’s a threat. Why not make sure it can’t hurt you sooner rather than later?”

He didn’t adjust her statement – didn’t interject to reassure her that Ivy wouldn’t hurt the both of them. He didn’t make it an _us._

Which was good, because she was done with _us_. She didn’t want _us_ to be something stretched between her and Jack – never again.

She paused before she left, tossing a glance over her shoulder. Hesitated, for just a moment. And then… “Jack, do you kill girls?” And, as if she needed to clarify, she added, “and eat them?”

She knew. She knew as soon as he didn’t immediately deny it.

She slammed the door on the way out.

<><><>

Roxy was on her mind.

Jack had been there, that night at the bonfire. He could’ve seen Harley with Roxy – and Harley knew exactly how possessive Jack could get. Pair that with the smell on him just before Selina had told Harley Roxy had disappeared – that metallic scent, like he’d drenched himself in _Mechanic No._ 5 – and it was a truth Harley had known for a while. She couldn’t tuck it in a neat box in the corner of her mind anymore.

If vampires could cry, Harley would’ve. As it was, she stopped in an alleyway near the edge of Gotham U – a place where no self-respecting Gothamite would’ve come after dark – and buried her head in her hands. She was so, so tired. And she kept making these mistakes – all these mistakes coming back to haunt her. Professor Tetch. Jack. Maybe even Ivy. Though in that regard, Harley wondered if Ivy had made a mistake on her.

“Harley?”

Harley started to her feet, knowing she was moving too fast for a normal human being even as she did it. She couldn’t stop herself; her nerves were already on end, and it didn’t help that she’d been so, so positive she was alone.

The figure at the end of the alleyway was familiar – someone Harley hadn’t seen in too long. In all honesty, it felt like a message from God. Harley was drowning, and here was the one person who might be able to toss her a life jacket.

Harley stumbled down to the end of the alleyway and threw herself around Selina, not even caring if her cheek against Selina’s was ice-cold. Selina’s skin burned hot where Harley touched it – hotter even than Ivy’s. It made Harley wonder, briefly, if she’d gotten so attuned to Ivy’s temperature that she’d forgotten what a normal human felt like.

Selina flinched at first, but then she relaxed around Harley, patting her back with awkward little touches that said she didn’t quite know how to help. Harley heaved dry sobs into the hug, sucking air in through her mouth as she tried to get herself to calm down.

“Uh…” Selina said, “I’m guessing something fucked up just happened.”

Harley drew back, sniffling. “How did you know?”

Selina gave her a look. “You’re crying in the middle of an alleyway during the witching hour. Something _has_ to be screwed up, girl. You broke rule one. And…” her eyes hardened. “You’ve definitely broken it before.”

Which made Harley wonder, briefly, why Selina was violating her own rule. But then she realized… “how do you know? That I’ve… umm… broken it before?”

Selina traced a finger down an invisible tear on Harley’s cheek. “Oh, Harley,” she said, “because someone turned you into a fucking _vampire_ , and I think I know who.”


	19. High Stakes

The fact that Selina Kyle was aware enough of Gotham’s supernatural activity to know what Harley was – _and_ the man who’d made her that way – would’ve been enough to floor Harley on any night other than this one. Now, it made an impression less as a complete surprise and more as a shrug emoji. _This might as well happen_ , Harley thought, kneading her temples with one hand as Selina led her back to Selina’s apartment – though it also could’ve been Bruce Wayne’s place, for all Harley knew.

Selina curled up on a plush red sofa like a cat. She’d been wearing a tank top and cut-off shorts in the street when Harley had first seen her, plus a leather jacket laid over the top; now, she’d doffed the jacket and was sitting braced up against the back of the couch, studying Harley with an appraising gaze.

“So, first things first,” Selina said, “have you killed anyone?”

“What?” Harley almost recoiled. “ _No._ ”

Selina gave her a satisfied nod. “Thought not. I watch the news, you know, and there was no uptick in missing persons reports. Where do you get your blood?”

This topic felt almost as awkward as the time Harley had been practically interrogated by her mother after she’d gotten her first period. Almost. She ducked her head. “Dairy farm. Just outside of town.”

“Good.”

“My turn for a question.” Harley looked up again. She was perched on an old, gothic chair – the more she thought about it, the more it felt like this probably _was_ Bruce’s place, what with all the old and expensive furniture. Everything was velvet and silk. Permeated by that musky scent. Not to mention the portrait of some ancient ancestor hanging up behind Selina. “So, the vampire you think turned me. Are you talking about Jack?”

“If that’s his name,” Selina said, eyes narrowing. “He’s a slippery son of a gun. I only know him by sight. Green hair, right?”

“Green hair,” Harley confirmed.

“Fucker killed my best friend,” Selina said, shaking her head.

“Pamela?”

“You know her name?” Selina raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve done your research, too. Yeah, Pamela. Last time I ever saw her she was on a collision course with that man. But the security cameras don’t show it.” She shrugged. “Classic vampire. Been keeping an eye out for him ever since.”

From her tone, she’d definitely been doing more than “keeping an eye out for him.”

Harley raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to go for the “guess what, your best friend is alive” angle at the moment, so she shifted the topic. “Uh… not to freak you out, Selina, but you’re just… well… human. You sure you _want_ to find Jack?”

It was then that Harley felt the presence in the room. Someone new. She would’ve thought she could have identified him without turning – that he might smell of a rich man’s aftershave or cologne – but she only knew it was Bruce Wayne when she glanced over her shoulder to look him in the eye.

He was dressed all in black from his toes to his turtleneck, as perfectly put together as he had been at the bonfire. He met Harley’s gaze as he flipped the wooden stake he was holding with ease. It fit so naturally into his palm it was like he’d been born with it.

_What. The. Hell._

“Your boyfriend’s a freaking vampire hunter, Selina,” Harley sputtered. She felt the spike of anxiety in her chest as she realized she could’ve been lured here – this could be a trap.

“Well, yeah,” Selina said, pulling up her shirt as Harley turned back to her so Harley could see the stake tucked there, against her hip. “And I am, too. So, to answer your question, that’s a definitive yes. I’m absolutely sure I want to find Jack. If that’s even his real name.” Her eyes sparkled in the half-light. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve besides this. I’d love to draw it out with him. He’s known for toying with his prey.”

Harley swallowed. “Uh… should I be worried?”

Selina snorted. “First off, you’re a newborn and haven’t actually killed anyone. Second, you’re our closest tie to the vamp. So that would be a no, we’re not going to stake you.”

Harley felt a nervous giggle escape her lips. “This would be a pretty high _stakes_ moment if you did, huh?”

Selina gave her a wicked smile. “Yes,” she said, “I believe it would.”

<><><>

They didn’t tell her much more after that. Mostly, they asked about Jack’s whereabouts – where she’d last seen him, where he might be. Part of her still wanted to be loyal, still wanted to protect him, but when she thought of Roxy and all those other girls ( _Ivy,_ her mind whispered, _Ivy_ ) she could feel her resolve solidifying. So she did her best to fill them in.

Unfortunately, they probably knew just as much about Jack’s comings and goings as she did; all she could really tell them was that he’d been known to frequent her apartment.

Bruce shot a glance at Selina. He hadn’t sat down once during the time they’d been talking – he’d been pacing back and forth, thoughts etched between his brows. “We thought he might still be… involved with you,” he said. “Selina wasn’t sure… well. _We_ weren’t sure about you.”

“We didn’t want to tangle you up in things,” Selina clarified. “Not if he hadn’t turned you.”

Harley tipped back in her chair. If she was still the type of creature who could’ve slept, she would’ve been exhausted. As it was, she was just done. She needed a moment. “I left him, you know,” she said, easy as that. “We _were_ together. But I left him. He wanted me to kill… to kill Ivy.”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “Ivy?”

“The swamp witch.”

“You mean the bog witch?”

Harley shook her head, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “It’s a swamp. Biologically speaking.”

She could tell there were things they’d been keeping from her during this conversation. And if there were secrets they had tucked securely away, she needed to keep Ivy’s. There had to be a reason Ivy hadn’t reached out to Selina. Had to be.

<><><>

She ended up staying the night.

“We do want to keep you out of this as much as possible,” Bruce had explained to Harley before she’d “gone to bed” (so to speak). “Jack is our fight, not yours. We’ve already taken out several of his colleagues throughout the city.”

Harley had tried to hide her surprise – and her discomfort. “He has… _colleagues?_ ”

Selina shrugged. “ _Had._ You’re not the only one he’s turned. Or the only one we’ve tracked down.” She hesitated. “You _are_ the only woman, as far as we know. And, quite possibly, the only one with any moral groundings to speak of. We’ve taken out most of his cabal by this point.”

Harley frowned. “How do you find them?”

Selina and Bruce exchanged a glance. “We have our ways,” Bruce said. “Though like we said, sometimes we need a helping hand.”

“But I can help.”

“You’re a newborn,” Selina said. “You haven’t figured it all out yet. Can you even turn into a bat yet?” (She steamrolled past Harley’s mumbled protest.) “Besides…” she winced. “I don’t… well… he could’ve turned you because of me. To get… to get back at me, somehow. He knows what Bruce and I have been doing, I’m sure, or we would’ve caught him by now.”

“Oh.” The more Harley thought about Jack, now, the more she could feel her feelings for him twisting. It wasn’t that what he’d done was _changing_ , necessarily – just the lens through which she viewed it. She’d been blind for so long, and she’d finally gotten glasses just so she could see the warning signs blinking at her in 1000pt font.

“So you’re definitely out,” Selina said, straightening her shoulders. “Sorry not sorry.”

“S’okay,” Harley said with a shrug. To be honest, she’d been a little worried about dealing with Jack as soon as she’d left him. She knew he’d figure out what was going on with Ivy soon enough. As soon as Harley didn’t come back.

Jack could be scary when he was angry. Harley was fully willing to leave well enough alone – especially when there were two vampire hunters there who had her back.

<><><>

“We don’t have a coffin,” Selina said with a wink when the time came to get Harley settled for the night.”

“Boo, hoo. Stick me in a closet with a phone and I’m fine.” Harley was joking, mostly, but the room she ended up in was barely more than a closet, after all. She got the feeling Bruce Wayne was rich enough to afford a place with many windows.

Harley’s resolve hadn’t faltered. That night, she was going to find Ivy and come clean. About Jack, about Professor Tetch – about everything.

She wanted to be Old Harley when she was with Ivy. But… maybe, just a little, she wanted to be Truthful Harley.

Because it seemed like Ivy deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Careful, y'all, your secrets are seeping out...


	20. Secret-Keeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's soft (and long). TW for mentions of abuse of power/sexual assault.

Harley hated apologies.

The primary reason was that she despised her past self for doing whatever she’d done to need to apologize in the first place. She hated to dwell; she wanted to get on with her life and forget she’d ever made a mistake.

She was not going to be able to apply that strategy to Ivy.

Mostly because she didn’t _want_ to move on from Ivy. And because Ivy deserved a really, really, _really_ freaking good apology.

Harley took the bus towards the swamp. She wanted to avoid being alone on Gotham’s streets as much as possible; she couldn’t help but admit that yeah, she was a little bit worried about what Jack might do if he caught her solo at night and she couldn’t prove she’d offed Ivy.

Especially since two vampire hunters were waiting for him at her apartment. Oopsies.

 _Or not oopsies_ , Harley thought darkly, disembarking from the bus. _It’d serve him right_.

The cat wasn’t there this time, which almost made Harley sad. She’d enjoyed meeting up with it. Talking to it. Maybe that spoke to what a sad and lonely little person she was, that she missed the kitty because it had been her second-best conversation partner for a while. After Ivy, of course.

Now _that_ was sad. Jack hadn’t even ranked above a cat.

Harley paused at the edge of the swamp. She’d already worked through what she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get it all out right. And she didn’t want to mess this up. The moment she stepped into the wetlands, Ivy would know she was there.

Harley took a deep, calming breath that she didn’t actually need.

By the time she was three steps in, white flowers were already blooming.

<><><>

She found Ivy lying flat on her back in the undergrowth, arms extended and chin tilted up towards the sky. Her hair fell out behind her in a sheet of red; swamp muck was already soaking into her clothes, her shoes, as she sank into the mud.

“Uh,” Harley said, “is there… like… a reason for this?”

“Shh.”

“Okay.”

“ _Shhhhhh._ ”

Harley sat down as quietly as she could, making the zip-your-lips motion even though she knew Ivy couldn’t see her. Ivy’s eyes were closed, but Harley could see the telltale green glow leaking out from the corners of them. She was doing magic. Some sort of deep… uh… magic-y magic.

Harley sat there for what felt like an hour before it occurred to her that Ivy might be pulling her leg. Maybe she was doing this on purpose – acting like she was casting a spell, when really she was just forcing Harley to wait as she joked with the trees behind Harley’s back. Or in front of her face, since Harley wouldn’t be able to tell.

Harley was about to speak up when the owl landed.

She almost started at it, but she knew somewhere deep inside that she would’ve spooked it away. And the Ivy would’ve been mad at her, and Harley was pretty sure Ivy was mad already. _Harley_ certainly would’ve been, if someone she was close to had said something like _that_ – (“almost as beautiful as you,” Harley’s memory teased her) – and then left her alone in the middle of a swamp.

The barn owl was tawny on top and white underneath. It peered at Ivy with a face shaped like a plate, a face as white as its stomach feathers. Ivy opened her eyes and looked at the owl. Her mouth moved without making a sound.

The owl skittered a little closer to her. Ivy reached out, slowly, gently, and plucked a single downy feather from beneath its wing. It shook itself out as soon as she did; then, with one powerful press of its wings, it was alighting into the air again.

Ivy sat up, holding the feather like a precious thing. The swamp muck squelched as she pulled herself out of it.

Harley wanted to ask if she was allowed to talk now. Just as she was about to open her mouth, Ivy said, “yes, you can talk now.”

If Harley hadn’t been able to _see_ that Ivy’s eyes weren’t glowing anymore, it would’ve been hard to convince her that her mind hadn’t just been read. As it was, she shifted uncomfortably where she sat. “Nice feather.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “A barn owl’s feather, freely given, on the night before the full moon’s rising.”

“I have no clue what that means.”

Ivy glanced up at her, a smile glittering out and then away in the briefest of moments. She was a mess. She was beautiful. “I’d say it’s a little more than just _nice._ ”

Harley opened her mouth. She closed it. And opened it again. Nothing seemed willing to come out.

“You trying to say something, daisy?”

It was the daisy that did it. The daisy that told Harley this was going to be okay. “Yeah,” she said, and it came out almost a whisper, “I slept with my psych seminar professor at Columbia. And he fucked me over because of it.”

“Oh,” Ivy said, like her voice was half caught in her throat. She swallowed, her fingers tightening around the feather as she met Harley’s eyes. “I must say, I was _not_ expecting _that_.”

<><><>

They headed back to Ivy’s place to talk. Threaded their way through the traps and secret spaces as Harley let her words spill out of her mouth, glad she was following behind Ivy so she didn’t have to see her face.

“I was a sophomore,” she began, watching where her feet were landing. “Columbia. Big school for a kid like me – my parents couldn’t afford one of those prep schools, so we were all surprised when I got in. I knew I wanted to study psych, and I was pretty damn good at it, too.” It was a phrase that would’ve puffed her chest with pride back when she hadn’t yet ruined everything. Now, it was just a reminder of everything she’d thrown away.

“And then, second semester sophomore year, I got into this class. Cognition. _Everyone_ wanted to be in cognition – it was taught by this brilliant man, Professor Jervis Tetch – he’d been doing research on neural networks and executive function. He was published in _Nature_ my freshman year. And he only took upperclassmen for that course.

“When I was trying to get in, I wrote him an email – I told him how much I wanted to take the course, explained my previous classwork and the research I’d been doing into scientific articles and stuff all by myself. He asked to meet me, so I went to his office.” Harley nudged a tuft of moss with her toe as she passed it. “Umm… he was… he was very charming. We talked for like three hours – and he was so personable, you know? He let me into the class… and he asked me to dinner.”

She could feel the emotions welling up in her throat as she spoke. _This_ was why she hadn’t wanted to say anything to Ivy when they’d first met, no matter what Jack had told her. She still remembered what Professor Tetch had looked like when she’d walked into his office – smooth, put together, thin gray streaks barely visible in his white-blond hair. He’d given her such a lovely smile, taking her in like she was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I didn’t… he didn’t tell me he had a family,” Harley said, trying to keep the flush out of her cheeks. “And I _knew_ he was my prof, and it was a little weird, but he was so _kind_. He… um… he had this nickname for me. We’d talked about some of his prior research on psilocybin – the compound found in shrooms, you know – and he’d made this little joke about Alice in Wonderland, and he started calling me Alice.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“It started small. I… I got a B- on one of his tests. And I knew it wasn’t a big deal – I mean, I wasn’t a straight-A student all the time, even though I tried to be – but we’d been texting, and he made a joke about how easy it’d be for me to get a few percentage points back… so I sent him this pic, this really tame thing, just… like… down my shirt a little.

“My grade was a 98% the next day.

“I think he knew he had me after that. And to be honest, I really, sincerely didn’t feel like I was being taken advantage of. I’d get grades I wasn’t quite happy with, and things… escalated.” Okay, maybe Harley’s voice had cracked a little. Maybe she was dry-crying a bit. But the good thing was, Ivy still couldn’t see. “We were together for most of the semester. We’d meet in hotel rooms, mostly, sometimes his office. I sent him pics when he asked for them. I still didn’t know he had a family, I swear. And then it all fell apart.”

She bit her lip. That day – that _day_ – was still seared into her mind.

She was never going to forget it.

<><><>

_Harley woke up to a riot of messages on her phone. Most of them were from Jervis, which brought a half-smile to her lips. She read the first. Then the second. Kept reading._

_The names the person on the other end of the conversation called her told her it wasn’t Jervis, wasn’t him at all. Names Harley had never heard in polite conversation. Slut was the tamest of them._

_As it turned out, Jervis’ wife had found his conversations with Harley in his phone. Harley remembered the spike of panic – he had a_ wife?

_A wife who’d leaked Harley’s nudes to the internet. And by leaked, Harley really meant posted all over – her social media was inundated with her nudes and Mrs. Tetch’s side of the story. The harlot who’d seduced her poor husband to improve her grades in his class. A succubus who deserved to be expelled – to be made an outcast._

_Suffice to say it nearly worked. Harley remembered how quickly she’d been called into the office of the Dean of Students, how she’d tried to explain what had happened but been told that Professor Tetch was tenured and a lauded member of the faculty. How fast she’d been told Columbia might not be the place for her, but that she was going to be placed on probation rather than expelled until the matter could be further investigated. The man talking to her gave her the kind suggestion that she begin looking into other areas into which she could expand her education._

_Most of the sites had deleted the pictures when she’d reported them. It didn’t help much. They’d been up for too long; other students already had access. Screenshots had been taken._

_Harley remembered packing up. Tears streaming down her face as she tucked away books, clothes, papers._

_She’d noticed her first test from Cognition, then; as she picked it up from its place in her binder, another piece of paper dislodged from it. It looked like someone else’s test had gotten stuck to it when they were handed out._

_The other test had an A._

_Harley wouldn’t have thought much of it – really wouldn’t have – if she hadn’t noticed that the first question was marked correct._

_She glanced at her own test. First question, same answer, but hers was marked wrong._

_She stopped packing. Compared the tests. Hers was almost identical to the other kid’s, but they’d gotten an A and she’d gotten a B-._

_Harley rifled through her other assignments, the other things she’d done poorly on. Low Bs, once a high C. She unpacked her cognition textbook and went through her answers one by one._

_The lowest grade she should’ve gotten on any given assignment was an A-._

_That was when she’d gone after Tetch._

<><><>

Ivy turned, eyes wide. “You went after him?”

Harley wiped at her eyes furiously, even though she knew there wasn’t any liquid there to bother her. It still _felt_ like crying. “Uhh… yeah. He told the campus people it was assault, but I never actually touched him. Well… I mean, I pushed him when I got into his office, but that was it. They expelled me after that. I guess it was the whole thing with the straw and the camel’s back. None of the places I applied to for transfer would take me but Gotham.”

Her voice broke. _Again_. Goddamn, she was getting so sappy. Even though it was over, and she couldn’t go back to fix it.

Ivy didn’t wait for her to say anything else. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Harley. Warm, strong arms, drawing Harley close.

Harley didn’t know if this was a witchy-Ivy thing – likelihood was yes – but she could feel hints of Ivy’s emotions pulsing through the embrace. Sympathy, yes. _Empathy_ , yes. Like she knew exactly what Harley was feeling and why. Like she’d experienced something similar herself.

And there was a hint of something else, too. Something deeper.

“I just…” Harley took a deep, shuddering breath. “I wanted to explain. To say I’m sorry. Because that same thing happened with Jack. I really thought I loved him, so when he told me I needed to go talk to the swamp witch—” (and here, she could feel Ivy’s arms tightening) “I told him yes.”

The full truth, spilling out. She told Ivy everything that had happened since she’d gotten to Gotham. Everything. And then she reached the hardest thing of all. “But I… I couldn’t handle it, last time I saw you. I knew it wasn’t a spell. After that all happened, I left him. I left Jack. For good.

“I understand if you don’t want me to be here, but I don’t want to be with him, either. None of this is an excuse – but I wanted you to understand _why_ … why all of this happened in the first place.”

Ivy drew back, her hands settling at Harley’s hips. There was something fierce and protective in her eyes. “Fuck him.”

Harley offered a tentative smile. “Which one?”

“Both,” Ivy said, “for missing out on the only good thing they’d ever met in their sorry lives.”

“I meant it, you know,” Harley said, looking up into Ivy’s eyes.

Ivy pressed her hands into Harley’s hips, just a tiny little movement that told Harley she’d heard. She understood. And her touch was soft – softer than Harley deserved. “What did you mean, daisy?”

“When I said you were beautiful.” Harley swallowed. “And I don’t just mean on the outside. I think… I think that’s what makes you so different. I’m scared of Jack. Deep down, I think I was scared of Jervis, too. But I don’t think I could ever be scared of you.”

Ivy’s hands drifted up to the sides of Harley’s face, her thumbs smoothing blonde wisps of Harley’s hair back behind her ears. Her palms rested against Harley’s cheeks for the briefest of moments, a butterfly-touch. There was such a tenderness to her expression that it made Harley feel light – lighter than she’d felt ever since Jervis, ever since Jack.

“Harley,” Ivy said, voice so low it felt like a confession. “May I?”

Harley bobbed her head in a nod. Almost as surprised that Ivy had asked as by the fact that the asking meant so much.

Ivy cupped Harley’s face in her hands and slowly, very slowly, kissed her.

Harley kissed her back.

It was as simple as that. The two of them encompassed by trees, shafts of moonlight playing on their skin. Harley’s hands tangled in Ivy’s hair. Ivy’s careful, gentle kisses. It had been a long time since Harley had been kissed like this – feather-light, steeped with love. Not foreplay kisses, not kisses as prelude, but a kiss for the purpose of the kiss itself. A kiss like a whisper in her ear, like a fire crackling in winter.

A kiss like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One milestone down... uh... quite a few to go. (Why did I ever think this was going to be 10 chapters?)


End file.
